Until The Very End
by Just Me and My Books
Summary: Fred was pleading with her now, as if that would make a difference. "Please, love, stay with me..." Fremione throughout Hogwarts and beyond. Rating may change depending on plot!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Fred couldn't stand to hear her scream-it killed him. He wished there was something he could do to switch places with her, just so she wouldn't hurt anymore. "Love, you're strong. I _know_ you're going to get through this. I'll be right here helping you," he said rather frantically after Hermione screamed again.

"I can't, I CAN'T!" she couldn't understand a word he had just told her; all she could focus on was the pain. Hermione was now convulsing so violently that it shook Fred as he held her hand. "IT HURTS!" she sobbed.

Fred was pleading with her now, as if that would make a difference. "I know, love, I know, but you have to get through this," he squeezed her hand, hoping he could give her strength as tears rolled down his face. "Please, love, stay with me..."

Hermione had suddenly stopped thrashing. She was still breathing heavily, but slowly turned to Fred and whispered, "Always."


	2. Homemaking & Acknowledging Revelations

**The Trials of Homemaking & Acknowledging Revelations**

"Fred Weasley! You come down here this instant!" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

"Coming, Mum!" Fred yelled back, and footsteps could be heard thundering down the stairs. "What is it?"

Mrs. Weasley had returned to her place in the kitchen, peeling potatoes (she insisted that it worked better manually), and Fred followed her in.

"I expect some of you boys to help out around here, too, you know, and not leave all your chores to our guests!" Mrs. Weasley scolded from her spot at the sink. "Poor Harry and Hermione have hardly got a chance to rest since they've arrived, and you boys are hiding in your rooms upstairs!"

Harry and Hermione looked at Fred apologetically, hoping that they wouldn't be dragged into the scolding. They had been quietly chopping up various vegetables, hoping to not get involved.

"Molly, really, I like helping-" Harry started, but Mrs. Weasley stopped him.

"That's sweet of you, Harry dear, but the boys really should be helping more anyway," she gave Harry a loving look.

"Harry's right, Mrs. Weasley, I haven't gotten to do this at home for a while. It's kind of fun, in a way." Hermione explained.

"Well...thank you dears. And please, call me 'Molly', Hermione," she put her hands on Hermione's shoulders and patted gently. She then rounded again on Fred and gave him a death stare with hands on her hips.

Fred looked a little embarrassed. "Gosh...sorry Mum...I guess I didn't know you wanted help; usually you like to do things yourself."

"I do, but I would have my sons help me rather than the guests that have just arrived!"

"Ok, ok!" he rubbed his neck. "Let me call George."

He walked to the bottom of the looming staircase.

"Oi! Forge!"

"Yeah?"

"Mum needs help in the kitchen, because 'The Bloke That Just Won't Die' and Granger have to chop vegetables all by themselves!" Fred feigned heartbreak, and he could hear George scoff in their room.

"Honestly Fred, Harry and Hermione have names, you know!" Fred distantly heard Mrs. Weasley call from the kitchen, but focused on his twin's response.

"Alright. Be down in a jiff."

George proceeded to rant to himself; Fred could tell, because the floorboards weren't that thick, and their room was right above the living room.

He knew this was going to be a long chore.

* * *

Halfway through their pre-determined vegetable quota, the twins had taken to asking Harry and Hermione personal (and rather ridiculous) questions.

"Seen our sister yet, Harry?" Fred asked with raised brows and a smirk on his lips.

Harry didn't look up from his vegetables. "No. I arrived here and I've been helping Molly ever since. I'll see Ginny at dinner, I'm sure."

There was a pause in conversation as they thought up new questions.

"So, Granger," George started as he separated peas from their pods. "You have a 'special someone' in your life as of today?"

Hermione blushed furiously. "No. Why do you ask?"

George shrugged. "Just wondering. Would you consider adding someone?"

Harry laughed. "You thinkin' of asking Hermione out, George?"

Hermione's blush deepened, if that was possible.

George also laughed and shook his head. "Nah, I'm just inquiring for a friend."

Hermione was taken aback. "Who would want to go out with me?"

George gave her a concerned look. "Hermione, don't be so hard on yourself. Tons of blokes would be extremely lucky and flattered to be able to go on a date with you. It's true." He added when she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Anyway, I happen to know someone who is very interested in your love-life. Even if he doesn't want to admit it to anyone yet."

Harry looked impressed; Hermione looked doubtful, and George was smiling giddily to himself.

* * *

"I don't see why _we_ have to de-gnome the bloody garden; Ron and Ginny haven't done a thing, and we have to do this!" Fred stomped out to the backyard with his twin, Hermione, and Harry close behind.

The four started their hunt for gnomes, a few of which occasionally scampered across the grass and into a different hole.

Half-an-hour later, Harry had caught eight (he would've caught more, but he got bitten horribly by a few, which took away from hunting others), Hermione, twelve, and the twins, combined, had a grand total of...one.

Apparently, Fred and George didn't think they had to do the work assigned to them, which left Harry and Hermione to do the majority. They had planted themselves under a tree, and would point out the running gnomes to the exhausted other two.

Hermione finally stopped in front of them, put her hands on her hips, and pursed her lips. "You know, you may not like the work, but it's your work nonetheless, so you must do it. I daresay your mum would withhold your dinners if she found out you didn't lift a finger to help me and Harry."

The twins' eyes widened, and they scrambled to their feet. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

They sighed defeatedly, and Fred picked up a gnome trying to get past his feet. He swung it above his head for a few seconds, then let go with all the force he could muster. The gnome landed an astonishing 50 meters from the garden's wall, and it was walking in circles for five minutes before it headed off down the wall.

Hermione looked impressed as Fred turned around. He smirked at her gaping mouth and dusted off his hands.

"Happy?"

Hermione snorted and shook her head, getting herself out of her awe. She walked back over to Harry who was trying desperately to pull a fat gnome out of a hole, and the twins watched her go.

George finally spoke after a minute. "So, you really fancy her, don't you?"

Fred thought about it for a minute before answering. "I sure do."

"Damn. You're going to be so whipped in a few months!"

"Shut up."


	3. Sharing Secrets & Boosting Confidence

**Sharing** **Secrets & "Boosting Confidence"**

Hogwarts was coming very quickly for the six who were still attending, but they still had one more exciting activity before the new year started. It had been only a few weeks since Hermione and Harry had arrived at the Burrow, and the Quidditch World Cup was something they were all very much looking forward to, except for the early departure tomorrow morning.

Earlier in the summer when Fred and George had heard that they were going this year, George got so excited that it started to scare Fred.

"Gred, do you realise what this means?! You get to spend all of that time with Hermione! Not to mention watching one of the best Quidditch matches of our lives, and you'll get to see it with her!"

Fred rolled his eyes at his twin, but smiled nonetheless. "I know George, and I'm excited too, but you need to calm down. Hermione doesn't even know that I like her, ok? And I kinda want it to stay that way until I feel ready to tell her. George? Did you hear anything I just said to you?"

But George was sitting dreamily on his bed with a smile on his face, and looking at something that Fred couldn't see.

"George!"

"Hmm? Oh, I was just imagining what it will be like when you and Hermione have kids. All of them will have red hair, her eyes and mouth, your nose and freckles. They'll be geniuses, no doubt, but have a knack for pranking, like you and me-"

"George, if you say one more word, I will stop talking to you forever."

George didn't even look up. "No you won't."

"...Alright, but I'll leave the room."

George shrugged and tipped over onto his pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Fred mirrored his movements.

"Are you going to tell her, Fred? I mean, it's been almost six months since you admitted to me that you liked her, so who knows how long you've really fancied her."

Fred sighed and thought about it. If he said anything now, she'd think he was pranking her and wouldn't believe him. If he waited too long, she'd be off and dating other blokes and he'd tell her on her wedding day, and she'd be so torn, but she couldn't break her promise to her fiancé, so she'd leave crying and he'd be left standing there like an idiot-

Ok, he needed to stop. He shook his head and answered his brother. "Yeah, but I'm going to wait a bit, and see how everything plays out. I'm going to start being better friends with her, and see how that goes. Then, I'll go with the flow."

George nodded from his spot, but his twin couldn't see. "Sounds like a plan." There was silence for half a minute before he spoke again. "You know, if you need help with anything-anything at all-just ask me. I'm sure Lee would love to help too; he loves a good laugh."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Thanks George. You're a real confidence booster, you know that?"

"Anytime."

* * *

In Ginny's room, Hermione sat on Ginny's bed watching the red-head who was finishing packing her trunk.

"Gin," she said after a few minutes of watching as Ginny folded her many Weasley sweaters into her trunk. "Would you promise not to laugh if I told you something?"

Ginny looked up with concern. "Of course, 'Mione. Why would I laugh?"

Hermione shifted in her seat. "Well, I didn't know...you see, recently, I've had some...thoughts about a guy...no, not anything like that!" She exclaimed as Ginny's eyes widened. "No! That didn't come out right...I've recently found him to be very...attractive, to say the least, and I feel silly. I haven't told anyone yet."

Ginny nodded, face contorting into a thoughtful one. "Is it someone I know?"

Hermione nodded.

"Is it someone in your year?"

"No." Hermione shook her head.

"Is it...someone in my grade, or lower?"

"No!"

"Okay! Just checking. Ummm...has he left Hogwarts? No? Ok, well that means it has to be someone in either their fifth, sixth, or seventh year...that narrows it down." She said sarcastically. "Wait, he goes to Hogwarts, right? It's not some Muggle?"

"Right. He's in Gryffindor, too."

"Cool, so at least it's not some Slytherin git. Well awesome, 'Mione! I'm glad you're starting to set your sights on someone! I hope they know how lucky they are to be fancied by you, the 'Brightest Witch of Our Age'."

Hermione's face was as red as Ginny's hair. "He doesn't know."

"What?! How could you not tell him?" Ginny walked over to Hermione and shook her shoulders gently.

Hermione looked helplessly at the younger girl. "It's not as easy for me as it is for you to do that, Gin. I'm the nerdy, bookwormy, know-it-all of Hogwarts; I don't know that much about liking guys or flirting. I've only ever hugged Harry and Ron, and they're my best friends!" She stood up and started pacing. "I mean, what if he thinks I'm mad? What if he thinks I'm too young for him? Or not popular enough? Or not-"

Ginny stopped her. "Hermione. No bloke in his right mind would ever think that of you. One of your best friends is Harry Potter for Merlin's sake. You're the best in your year, and in the school, except for Quidditch, which doesn't really matter, unless he's hard-core like Wood-just kidding! He won't ask you out based on your ability to fly a broom! And if he does, then don't accept. And tell me, because then I can use a new hex I've been dying to try out."

In spite of herself, Hermione had a small smile playing on her lips at Ginny's words; they'd made her hopeful, and boosted her confidence in herself.

"Better?" Ginny asked, and Hermione nodded, her curly brown tresses bouncing on her head. "Alright, now let's get to sleep. I know it's early, but we have to leave before dawn Dad says."

Hermione laid awake for a good half an hour thinking about a certain someone before she finally fell asleep.

* * *

 **Please tell me how you think this is going so far! I had doubts about starting it in Hermione's 4th year, but I've gotten some good ideas for the plot!**

 **Tell** **me your ideas!  
**

 **Love always,**

 **B**


	4. Bagman & Crouch

**Bagman & Crouch**

 **A/N Yes, I've decided that for chapters that relate to those in the books, I'll be using the chapter names that correspond. And yes, I am taking a lot of general text from the book, but I'm adding my own flare and the whole story won't be like that, it's just kind of a filler in-between Fremione happenings! Just an FYI.**

 **And I suppose:**

 **Disclaimer: Sadly, I'm not J. K. Rowling, so I don't own this, I just revise** **it.**

* * *

When the Weasleys (minus Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Mrs. Weasley, of course), Harry, and Hermione set off early in the morning, there was barely any light from the sun. Everyone except Mr. Weasley was yawning occasionally and rubbing their eyes to try to get the still-present sleep to leave.

After walking for a good while, Mr. Weasley told the bunch to split and start looking for the portkey. They had only been at it for a couple minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a mouldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

"I know him," Harry whispered to Hermione. "He plays for Hufflepuff. He's the one that wanted a rematch last year when I fell off my broom." Hermione nodded; she vaguely recognised him from school, walking down hallways and such.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating Gryffindor in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

"He's cute!" Ginny whispered to Hermione as Mr. Weasley chatted with Mr. Diggory.

Hermione looked him over. He was rather handsome, with chocolate brown hair that curled into ringlets on his head. He was very tall, lean and built for Quidditch. Hermione, as well as everyone else that had ever watched a game of Quidditch in their lives, knew that you had to be very fit to keep up with the game; Cedric was no different.

Hermione was pulled out of her reverie by Mr. Weasley loudly interrupting a rather nasty comment Mr. Diggory was in the process of voicing.

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Wesley quickly, pulling out his watch again. He and Mr. Diggory began walking. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

Hermione and Ginny lagged behind the group, and as Cedric made to fall in with the Weasley boys and Harry, he spotted Hermione and smiled. She gave a friendly smile in return, but Ginny let her mouth fall open slightly as they walked behind him, and she kept looking from Hermione to Cedric, and back again.

There happened to be another person who noticed this exchange, and he was very curious to know what was between Hermione and Cedric, if anything.

* * *

When they arrived at the campsite, the sight that greeted Harry and Hermione was like nothing they'd ever seen before. Hundreds upon hundreds of tents were lined up neatly in rows, some towering over the others with multiple levels and turrets. Some had makeshift gardens with plastic decorations, and others had different varieties of flowers and plants. Some even had live animals (one had peacocks) tethered to the entrance.

"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."

They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read **WEEZLY**.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult...Muggles do it all the time...Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

Hermione missed what happened next, as she was tapped excitedly by Ginny. "Hermione, we should see if we can find Cedric later. You should talk to him!"

Hermione shook her head at the girl. "What would we talk about, Gin? Why would I want to search the whole campground for him when I could be here, talking to my friends about things we actually have in common?"

She didn't let Ginny answer, and went over to help Harry with pitching the tents. He and Hermione had worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go, and though Mr. Weasley was more of a hinderance than help, because he got thoroughly excited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.

Hermione was admiring their handiwork when she realised that once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, they would be a party of ten. She gave Harry a quizzical look as Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

They all crawled in after Mr. Weasley, and though the Weasley's might have seen magic like this before, Harry and Hermione were not as used to it. Harry's jaw dropped as they walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. As Hermione was looking around, she heard Harry mutter something about, "Mrs. Figg," and "smells like cats."

"Well, it's not for long," said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water..."

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said Ron, who had followed Harry and Hermione inside and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Harry, and Hermione go and get us some water then,-" Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans "-and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

Fred inwardly groaned-he had wanted to be sent out on a chore with George and Hermione, but he guessed he'd just have to wait.

"But we've got an oven," said Ron. "Why can't we just-"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

"But _we're_ not Muggles," complained George.

* * *

After a quick tour of Hermione's and Ginny's tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', though without the 'smell of cats' Harry had been reminded of in the other one, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.

As they walked to the tap, the trio saw many interesting scenes playing out before them: a little wizard playing with his father's wand and making insects grow to abnormal sizes, young witches zooming around on broomsticks that only went about two feet above the ground, and many, many more.

A while into their journey, they were stopped by Seamus Finnigan, his mother, and Dean Thomas on the Irish side of the campground.

After they left, Ron made a comment about supporting Ireland, and Hermione voiced a question. "I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" she said.

"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgarian flag was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life as the Irish tents were, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," said Ron quietly.

"What?" said Hermione."

"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

Ron made some comments about Krum being a genius, but Hermione didn't pay attention. She had already continued walking, as she had been wanting to get back to the tents to spend some time in the boys' tent with Fred before the game. It looked like she wouldn't get much time.

* * *

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. The trio joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious-"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle _women_ wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear _these_ ," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she had to duck out of the queue and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away.

* * *

As they made their way back to their spot, Harry had apparently been surprised to find that Hogwarts wasn't the only wizarding school in the world. He had looked at Hermione, who had looked unsurprised at the information Ron had just told him.

"You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.

"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred, sneaking a glance at Hermione.

Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly drop it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly. She had hoped by helping Mr. Weasley, Fred would notice her and see how helpful and patient she was with his father. Not that she wouldn't have done it if Fred wasn't there, but it helped.

While waiting for the fire to get to cooking temperature, Mr. Weasley was pointing out Ministry workers to Harry and Hermione as they passed their tents; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

At last, the fire was lit and ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.

"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

" _Egg_ -cellent, more like," Fred quietly commented, but Hermione, sitting across from him, had heard and snorted, quickly covering it up as a cough. Fred noticed and grinned.

They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person they had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes we're stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

He chatted to Mr. Weasley about the perfect weather for the game, and just as he finished, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah-yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry-and this is Fred-no, George, sorry- _that's_ Fred-Bill, Charlie, Ron-my daughter, Ginny-and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead.

Mr. Weasley was being talked into placing a bet on the match when Hermione noticed Fred and George whispering frantically to each other. They started digging in their pockets and counting rapidly. She walked over to them and whispered scoldingly to them.

"You really shouldn't gamble-it's not a certain trade! You could loose all of your savings on one Quidditch match, and then you won't have any money to start your shop!"

They looked at her with identical looks of bewilderment. "How'd you know about our shop, Granger?" George asked suspiciously. "Been eavesdropping on our private conversations, have you?"

Hermione blushed. "No, but I overheard your mother yelling at you for not getting enough O. W. L. S. last year, and then I heard her mention Weasley's Wizard Wheezes after you two, Ron, and your Dad got Harry."

"Well, then you'll know that we've spent all that time and money on it already, and we're willing to bet and double our savings to be able to start our shop. It's what we've been wanting to do for years," Fred said reassuringly.

Mr. Bagman then spoke, "Any other takers?"

"They're a little young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like-"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins-but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that-" Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shine with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.

"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting...That's all your savings...Your mother-"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance...I'll give you excellent odds on that one...We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."

Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the twins but they only grinned at her. She couldn't help but smile in return. Fred had the most brilliant smile; it was different from George's, but only small differences, like the way his smile was more lopsided and cheeky, and his eyes got smaller as his grin got bigger...

Wait! What was she doing? She wasn't supposed to be focusing on smiles! She was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake! The Brightest Witch of Her Age should not degrade herself to thinking so intently on the smile of the guy she fancied. Right?

Hermione was snapped back into reality with Percy loudly sharing yet another accomplishment of Mr. Crouch.

"Mr. Crouch?" he said, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll..."

"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to a boil.

As Mr. Weasley asked Mr. Bagman about one of their coworkers, Hermione was in deep thought about her emotions. She shouldn't be thinking about boys right now, because then it would most likely carry on at Hogwarts and distract her from her studies. She couldn't allow that, she had to stop!

Mr. Crouch had just appeared, and Hermione finally decided that she would speak to Ginny about this later, as she has knowledge on things like this.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bit of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box.

"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, and sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes-thank you, Weatherby."

Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

A little while later, after Mr. Crouch's tea had been poured and all but a little had been drunk, and after Mr. Weasley and Mr. Crouch had discussed Ministry business going on at Hogwarts (with Percy trying to cut in with smart comments every other sentence), Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman left to go meet with the Bulgarians.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr. Weasley, smiling.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to disclose it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh, shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.

* * *

 **A VERY BIG THANK YOU to the following readers/reviewers/assistants:**

 **• Raven that flies at night**

 **• Fandomqueen104**

 **• GakuenLME**

 **• Anyone else who has read what I have so far in this story**

 **• My dogs, for listening to me talk to myself about conversations the characters have** **and giving me their opinions**

 **• My computer/phone/tablet for not crashing (knock on wood) while writing/posting**

 **If you haven't noticed by now, I'm trying to do an update every two days; I figure that gives me enough time to write a chapter well and revise it if need be. This might not be possible in the near future, as I'm going to be very busy in the coming months, but I will try to write/update when I have time!**

 **Keep reading and reviewing!**

 **All my love,**

 **B**


	5. The Quidditch World Cup

**The Quidditch World Cup**

Harry had bought Ron and Hermione Omnioculars (after slight protest from Ron, Harry said that those were his Christmas present for about ten years, which made Ron feel better) and Hermione bought programmes as souvenirs for the Cup. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were sporting green rosettes, and Mr. Weasleys was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had not gotten any souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.

Hermione, who had bought a set of eight programmes, went over to Fred and George and handed them each one with a small smile. George grinned and side-hugged her while Fred looked at her as though she was the best person on the face of the earth.

"Thanks, 'Mione," he grinned, giving her a full-on hug. He pulled away quickly so as to not draw suspicion, but continued to smile at her as she stood in front of them.

"No problem," she looked down and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. "I thought that since you two don't have any souvenirs, you could at least use a programme. I figured they'd be useful, and now you can look up names and facts and-" she stopped when she saw them smiling at her. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. You're just the nicest person ever," George smirked at her.

"Yeah, and we wish we were as good of friends to you as you are to us," Fred flipped through the pages of his programme.

Hermione blushed. "You two are good friends, even if we don't hang out. My being friends with Ron and Ginny practically makes me a part of your family," she laughed lightly.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

As the rest of the group started walking along the lantern-adorned path, Hermione handing out programmes to Bill, Charlie, and Ginny, (Percy had his own 'official Ministry-provided programme, but thank you') Fred and George stayed a few paces behind. George leaned over to reach his brother's ear.

"Yeah, if only she was _really_ part of the Weasley family," he whispered slyly.

"Oh, bugger off."

"Never."

* * *

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts of laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Harry couldn't stop grinning, and Hermione felt really happy, for some reason she couldn't explain. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Hermione could only see a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, she could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck looks on Harry's and Hermione's faces. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again...bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

Mr. Weasley's party climbed and climbed, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Hermione, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which she could never have imagined.

A giant blackboard opposite them had gold writing dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Hermione saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the field and the blackboard when she heard Harry speak.

" _Dobby_?" he said incredulously.

It turns out that the creature that Harry saw was not Dobby, but another house-elf named Winky.

Hermione didn't get to hear any more of the conversation because Ginny, who was sitting next to her, turned to her.

"Alright," she said.

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Are you going to tell me who the bloke is? Or do I have to hex it out of you?" Ginny practically yelled.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, "I thought you would be content with the information I have you!"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "I _was_ , but now I want to know: _who_ _is_ _it_?"

Hermione pursed her lips. Did she really want to tell Ginny? She could trust her, yes, but if Hermione told her, then Ginny would want her to act on her feelings, and Hermione didn't think she was ready to do that quite yet.

She thought for a moment. What would the Weasley twins do?

It hit her.

They'd want to get something out of it, too...

She'd make a deal with Ginny.

"Alright, Ginny," said Hermione slowly. "Let's make a deal. I'll tell you who it is...if you tell Harry you've fancied him since his first year. Can you do that?"

Ginny's eyes widened, and Hermione felt very pleased with herself.

Ginny spoke after a few minutes, "Fine."

Hermione was shocked. "What?!"

"I said fine. If that's the only way I'll get you to tell me, then so be it," she leaned across Hermione to Harry, who'd finished talking to Winky by now.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I just wanted to let you know, I've fancied you since I met you at King's Cross station when you and Ron were crossing the platform to get on the train your first year," she paused, then continued, "and Hermione wouldn't tell me who she fancies unless I told you that."

Harry looked taken aback by this confession, but his expression quickly changed to curiosity when Ginny had mentioned Hermione, and forgot all about the aforementioned statement.

"'Mione, you fancy someone? And you didn't tell me?" He looked slightly hurt at first, but then it changed to a look Hermione didn't recognise. "It's not Ron, is it?"

"No! Goodness no!" Hermione looked almost appalled. "I mean, it's not that I don't like Ron-he's one of my best friends, after all-but I don't fancy him. And, I didn't want to tell anyone, because...because I was hoping that it'd pass."

Harry smiled at her, "Well, that's great Hermione! But, are you going to tell us who it is?"

"Ugh!" Hermione groaned. "Why does everyone want to know? It's not that big of a deal!"

The twins, who had been sitting behind her, had heard her and leaned over her shoulders to learn what was the cause of the former exclamation.

"What's not a big deal, dearest Hermione?" asked Fred.

"Has Harry here been boasting about his repeated defeats of a certain Dark Lord?" George chimed in. Hermione dropped her head into her hands.

"No; these two keep pestering me to tell them who I 'fancy', to use Ginny's word."

"Well, you _do_ ," Ginny shrugged.

Fred felt something tighten in his chest. It was almost like his heart had been dropped from a sixty-story building. Hermione fancied someone? Who was it? It most certainly wasn't him-he knew that. She wouldn't fall for someone like him; he was a prankster, known for causing mischief. She was the smartest person he knew, and she didn't approve of their pranks. He had to keep his demeanour, of course, but it hurt.

"Oh?" said George. "Pray tell, Miss Granger: who is the lucky bloke?"

"Is it our dear ickle-Ronniekins?" Fred asked.

"No!"

Harry thought for a moment. "It's not Cedric, is it? I saw you two earlier, and he was smiling at you as we were walking to the portkey. I didn't know you knew him."

Fred's smiled had flickered just slightly, so no one noticed.

Except George.

Hermione frantically shook her head, "No, it's not Cedric; I've only just met him this morning! I couldn't possibly fancy someone I've only known for a few hours."

That relieved Fred. At least it wasn't pretty-boy Diggory; he didn't know if he could stand seeing Hermione with him. At least it wasn't Cedric.

"Well then, who is it?!" Ginny's face was red with impatience. " Hermione, please, _please_ tell me."

Hermione shook her head.

"Fine," said Ginny, crossing her arms and getting the signature Weasley smirk on her lips. "Then I'll just tell everyone I see that it's Neville Longbottom, even if it's not true."

Her eyes gleamed with malice as she saw Hermione's eyes widen and her cheeks grow a magnificent shade of red.

" _Is_ it Neville?" asked Harry.

" _No_ ," said Hermione forcefully, "Ginny's just being mean."

By this time, Ireland had already scored thirty points with the Quaffle, but the five of them were too engrossed in the topic of Hermione's love-life to look at the game for long (which is quite a shock, really).

"Fine," whined Hermione when she saw that Ginny wasn't going to relent. "I'll tell you, but I don't want anyone else to know; at least, not right now."

She leaned hesitantly towards Ginny, who was practically bouncing with anticipation, and whispered it carefully into her ear.

As she pulled away, Hermione could see the surprise and realisation forming on Ginny's face as she took in the name that Hermione had told her.

"No!" she whispered, shocked, but happy.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "And yes, I'm serious," she added, because Ginny's mouth was opening once more.

Ginny's mouth closed, and she squealed happily before turning her attention to the game.

"What was that about?" asked Harry confusedly.

But Hermione and Ginny remained silent, and turned their eyes back to the game, as did the rest of them.

"I can't believe that Krum got the Snitch-but Ireland won!" Ron said, bewildered, as Ireland was presented with the World Cup. "I mean, I don't think anyone except Fred and George had called that!"

Hermione turned to the mentioned pair, who were looking very impressed with their correct wager. "Now don't go gambling all the time-this was a very special bet. Not every bet turns out in your favour, you know," she warned.

Fred looked at her, a wide grin still on his face, "We know, Hermione, don't worry. This is the first and probably the last time we've bet," he turned to George. "I'm still shocked that we were right!"

"I'm glad, otherwise we'd have lost everything!" George said as he scouted out Ludo Bagman to claim their winnings.

He didn't have to look long, however, because Mr. Bagman was waking towards them with a awestruck look covering his face.

"They'll be talking about this one for year," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that...shame it couldn't have lasted longer...Ah yes...yes, I owe you...how much?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grind on their faces, their hands outstretched.

* * *

 **Sorry for the late update, loves, but I had a very, very busy day, so I didn't have much one to write until now, but here you go! I didn't include much of the actual match, because I figured if you wanted to read about it, you can read that chapter in the book.**

 **I know this one's a little short, but again, not much time to write!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **B**


	6. The Dark Mark

**The Dark Mark**

" _Don't_ tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

"Don't worry, Dad," said Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. They were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed. Hermione and Ginny went into the next tent, and Harry and the rest of the Weasleys got ready for bed. From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

Hermione lay staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, and thinking about the conversation at the start of the match. When Ginny and Harry were talking about who Hermione fancied, she could've sworn she saw Fred's smile drop, but just for a millisecond. But maybe it was the lighting, or maybe he had started getting a cramp, so he had to move? That was probably the reason. What was she thinking? Ugh, was this what it was like, fancying someone, thinking all of their expressions and emotions pertain to you? Then this was going to get annoying really fast.

She didn't have time to think anything else, however, because quite suddenly, Mr. Weasley had barged into their tent and was shouting.

"Girls-Hermione, Ginny, get up, get up now! This is urgent, get up!"

Ginny bolted up, rubbing her eyes with an annoyed look on her face, but stood up just the same.

"What's wrong, Dad? Why do we have to-"

"There's no time to explain, just grab a jacket and get outside-quickly!" he shouted before he rushed out of the tent.

Hermione did as she was told and rushed out of the tent, Ginny right behind her.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, she could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Hermione squinted at them...They didn't seem to have faces...Then she realised that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small-they were two children.

Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were all huddled together by this point, and the looks of horror on each of their faces was indescribable. Fred and George stood behind Hermione and Ginny, respectively, and put their hands on the girls' shoulders, as if to lead them away; but everyone was so shocked and horrified that they couldn't move.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest figure, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick..."

Mr. Weasley came hurrying toward them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot-get into he woods, and _stick together_. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

The three oldest Weasley boys were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the floating figures was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," Fred said as he grabbed Hermione's hand, and George took Ginny's as they began to run toward the wood.

The coloured lanterns that had lot the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. Hermione felt herself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces she could not see. She could feel her hand slowly slipping from Fred's grasp as the people kept running into her. Then she heard Ron yell with pain a few paces behind her. She let go of Fred's hand.

"Hermione!" he called, as he slowed down to take her hand again.

"Fred! I'm alright, but I'm going to help Ron! You and George take Ginny, we'll meet you back at the tent!" She could see that he was hesitant, but he had to go; she couldn't make him stay here-it was too dangerous. " _Go_!"

After a second, he turned and ran to catch up with George and Ginny, leaving his thoughts behind with Hermione as she stayed back to help Harry get Ron.

"What happened?" said Hermione as she turned away from Fred's shrinking figure. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid- _lumos_!"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was laying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that Hermione knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like _her_ spotted, would you?"

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly.

"Granger, they're after _Muggles_ ," said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around...they're moving this way, and it'd give us all a laugh."

"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.

"Have it your own way, Potter," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron.

"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy.

There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I supposed your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to-trying to rescue the Muggles?"

"Where're _your_ parents?" said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling.

"Well...if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"

"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and find the others."

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.

"Come _on_ ," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron up the path again.

They saw a group of teenagers speaking French a little ways up the path, and Hermione explained to Harry and Ron that yes, there _are_ other wizarding schools besides Hogwarts.

"Beauxbatons," muttered Hermione.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

"They must go to Beauxbatons," said Hermione. "You know...Beauxbatons Academy of Magic...I read about it in _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_.

"Oh...yeah...right," said Harry.

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione's, and squinting up at the path.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it...I've lost my wand!" cried Harry.

"You're kidding!"

Ron and Hermione raised their wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light farther on the ground; Harry looked all around him, but his wand was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe it's back in the tent," said Ron.

"Maybe it fell out of your pocket when we were running?" Hermione suggested anxiously.

"Yeah," said Harry, "maybe..."

A rustling noise nearby made all three of them jump. Winky, the house-elf Harry met earlier, was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible were trying to hold her back.

While Harry spoke to Winky, Hermione looked around the dark and dense woods trying to make sure no masked figures approached. She kept her back turned fl Harry and Ron as they spoke to the house-elf. Hermione couldn't help but think of Fred, George, and Ginny. They had to be alright, because if they weren't, Hermione didn't know if she could face seeing the Weasley's anymore. _She_ had been the one who separated the group and told those three to go on ahead; _she_ had been the one to let go of Fred's hand as he tried to keep hold of her.

"No, stop it, Hermione," she told herself. "They're fine, they're okay. They're back at the tent right now, just waiting for you three."

They didn't get a long chance to talk to her, though, before they heard another loud bang echo from the edge of the wood.

"Let's just keep moving, shall we?" said Ron, and Hermione saw him glance edgily at her. Perhaps there was some truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps she _was_ in more danger than they were. They set off again, Harry still searching his pockets, even though his wand wasn't there.

They followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny. They passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtedly won betting on the match, and who seemed quite unperturbed by the trouble at the campsite. Farther still along the path, they walked into a patch of silvery light, and when they looked through the trees, they saw three tall and beautiful women standing in a clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of whom were talking very loudly.

"Veela!" said Hermione.

"Is that what they're called?" asked Harry. "I saw them during the match and I just thought they were really pretty women."

"No, they're veela; they have these special powers to make men do very ridiculous things to try and impress them. Did you see Ron getting ready to do a dive out of our box? That's why."

As Harry and Ron looked toward the veela women, Hermione could hear the young men trying to top each other's accomplishments. She ignored them, that is, until Ron cut in with his own 'accomplishment'.

"Did I tell you I've invented a broomstick that'll reach Jupiter?" he yelled.

" _Honestly_!" said Hermione, and she and Harry grabbed Ron firmly around the arms, wheeled him around, and marched him away. By the time the sounds of the veela and their admirers had faded completely, they were in the very heart of the wood. They seemed to be alone now; everything was much quieter.

"I reckon we can just wait here, you know. We'll hear anyone coming a mile off." Harry said.

The words were hardly out of his mouth, when Ludo Bagman emerged from behind a tree right ahead of them.

"Who's that?" he said, blinking down at them, trying to make out their faces. "What are you doing in here, all alone?"

They looked at one another, surprised.

"Well-there's a sort of riot going on," said Ron.

Bagman stared at him.

"What?"

"At the campsite...some people have got hold of a family..."

Bagman swore loudly.

"Damn them!" he said, looking quite distracted, and without another word, he Dissaparated with a small _pop_!

"Not exactly on top of things, Mr. Bagman, is he?" said Hermione, frowning.

Harry was listening for noise from the campsite. Everything seemed much quieter; perhaps the riot was over.

"I hope the others are okay," said Hermione after a while.

"They'll be fine," said Ron.

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron. "He'd always said he'd like to get something on him."

"That'd wipe the smirk off old Draco's face, all right," said Ron.

"Those poor people, though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," said Ron reassuringly. "They'll find a way."

"Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out here tonight!" said Hermione. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking, or are they just-"

But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder. Harry and Ron looked quickly around too. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward their clearing. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" called Harry.

There was silence. Harry got to his feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but he could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of his vision.

"Who's there?" he said.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by voice unlike anything they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

" _MORSMORDRE_!"

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Harry's eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the-" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at he thing that had appeared.

It was a colossal skull, comprised of what look like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. Harry didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grizzly neon sign.

"Who's there?" Harry called again.

"Harry, come on, _move_!" Hermione had seized the collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward.

"What's the matter?" Harry said.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling him as hard as she could. "You-Know-Who's sign!"

" _Voldemort's-?_ "

"Harry, come _on_!"

He turned-the three of them started across the clearing-but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.

Hermione whirled around, and in an instant, she registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at herself, Ron, and Harry.

She heard Harry yell, "DUCK!", but Hermione hadn't reacted quickly enough.

She blacked out, her last memory being twenty flashes of bright light racing towards her.


	7. Hopes & Dreams

**Hopes & Dreams **

Hermione saw only white for a few minutes before a vision came into her head. She was at the Burrow, but it had been redecorated for something...A party, maybe? There were tables and chairs everywhere, enough to seat fifty people. A large marquee had been set up near the pond, shielding the tables from the warm sun.

She walked towards the front yard, but before she could get to the door, the whole Weasley family came pouring out and was walking to the marquee, along with Harry, who was carrying a small boy in his arms. The boy looked just like Harry, except for his eyes-they were hazel. Was Hermione looking at her best friend's son? All the people here looked older than Hermione remembered, so she very well could be.

Why hadn't they noticed her yet? She walked up to Harry and waved her hand in front of his face, but there was no recognition from him. Hermione then presumed this was a dream, because her best friend would surely acknowledge her if she was there.

Next, she noticed George, just George, walking alongside Ginny. A beautiful blonde woman walked behind them, and she and Ginny were laughing at something George had just said. She recognised Bill Weasley walking beside the blonde woman holding the hand of what looked to be a young girl, only about one or two.

She watched as Mrs. Weasley directed orders to her children, only about half of whom were actually listening. The rest were talking and joking with the rest of the family. Mr. Weasley was right behind her, trying to relax her a bit, resting one hand on one of her shoulders and talking only to her.

Charlie Weasley was there, surprising, yes, because he only left Romania when there was a special family occasion he had to attend. He ran up behind the girl whose hand Bill was holding and poked her sides which made her squeal with surprise. He then proceeded to chase her around the group, swerving and dodging the rest of his family.

She saw everyone except for Fred. She couldn't help but wonder when he would show up, and where he could be that would keep him from his family.

What surprised her the most was the next arrival. She saw an older version of herself come out of the house. But she wasn't alone.

She was trying to corral a small boy while holding the hand of an equally young girl.

She heard herself call, "Thomas!" to the little boy as she tried her best to grab him while still holding onto the little girl.

George had heard her call the boy's name, and jogged back over to help Hermione get him. He scooped the boy up in his arms and swung him over his shoulder upside-down as Thomas giggled with delight.

"Tommy Boy, you have to listen to your mummy. So do you Rosie, but you're doing a very good job. What has Uncle Georgie told you about listening to your parents?"

The little boy answered, "To listen to them all the time, but only mind some of the time with Uncle Georgie."

He had said this as though this was routinely asked of him.

Wait...Those were her children? She had children? Who was her husband?

George chuckled and set the boy down next to Hermione. "That's a good lad. Now then, you want to sneak a peek at the hole in Uncle Georgie's head?"

What? What hole?!

Thomas clapped and laughed. "Yes! Let me see the head-hole!"

The little girl, who'd not spoken until now, chimed in, "Me too, Uncle George, me too!"

"Yes, Rose, you can see too." George laughed as he picked up Thomas, let him get a good look, and then swapped him for Rose.

Dream Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know _what_ they find so fascinating about that, George."

George was missing an ear? When did this happen? What was going on?!

George smirked at Hermione. "What can I say, Hermione, they're _my_ niece and nephew, and they take after their father. Always looking for interesting and exciting things, even in the most unlikely of places."

Dream Hermione had a sad smile playing on her lips. "I suppose," she said. She paused for a moment before she said, "I really wish Fred was here. This is such an important day for the twins."

George's smile slipped from his lips at the mention of his missing brother. "Yeah, me too Hermione...me too."

She let go of the girl's hand and stepped forward to hug George.

Was she married to Fred? And they had twins? If so, then where was he? Dream George and Hermione said he was gone...but gone how?

So many questions were spinning around in Hermione's mind, and she had no way to truly answer them.

This was all she saw before a blinding white light pulled her away from this scene and back to reality.

* * *

When Hermione came to, she saw Charlie, the twins, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley all crowded a over her. They were all very blurry at first, but they got clearer the more she focused.

She had a terrible headache, and there was a tremendous pounding at the front of her head. She didn't dare try to sit up, because she knew she would most likely be sick if she tried.

"Blimey, Hermione," said George after she had blinked a few times to focus her eyes. "We thought you were dead!"

"No we didn't," Ginny glared at her brother, "we just didn't think you'd be out this long."

Hermione's face twisted in confusion, but when she moved, the pounding got worse and she winced in pain and closed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Mr. Weasley spoke up, "Well, you were stupefied times twenty, so it was a pretty bad hit, but it's been two days. We thought you would've woken up and just have been groggy for a bit."

"It's been two days?!" she exclaimed, immediately regretting that decision as she clutched her head in pain. "I'm so sorry, you probably wanted to leave right after the attack, and I made you have to stay," she groaned and covered her face with her hands.

"No, no, Hermione, it's alright, you couldn't help it," Mr. Weasley tried to calm her. "Besides, it gave us time to pack everything up and talk to the Ministry a little more."

"Yeah," George added, "nothing like walking by that Muggle bloke Mr. Roberts and having him wish us a Happy Christmas and shouting, 'God save the King!'"

Fred grinned. "We told him that he was the king. He looked so confused."

Hermione's head dropped back into her hands as Mr. Weasley turned to the twins to speak with them about being cruel to confused Muggles.

* * *

After Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley caught Hermione up with all the news about what had happened after she fainted, they decided that they should start heading home. Mr. Weasley had suggested staying one more day to let Hermione fully recover, but she insisted she was well enough to leave.

True to their word, the Weasley twins waved goodbye to Mr. Roberts, who waved them off with a vague, "Happy Christmas."

As most of the visitors had left a few days ago, there wasn't much of a queue for Portkeys when they arrived. Mr. Weasley had a quick discussion with Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, and they were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill, outside Ottery St. Catchpole, before the sun had really risen.

After they had made the journey by Portkey, Hermione was feeling less than great. She stumbled a little getting out of the spin of the Portkey, but the twins, who were next to her just for that reason, caught her before she fell.

"Are you sure you're alright, Hermione?" Fred asked with concern.

Hermione looked a little queasy, but answered, "Yes. Thank you, Fred."

Fred nodded, but still watched her, as she had gotten very pale the last few seconds. "Ok, but we'll stay by you just in case. You can always lean on us for support," he joked. "By the way, how can you always tell George and me apart? Even Mum and Dad can't do that."

Hermione had to think about it for a moment. How _did_ she do that? It never really occurred to her; she just always knew which twin was which. She shrugged after a minute, "I don't know, really, I just can."

"That's odd." Fred smiled internally. When even his parents couldn't tell him and George apart, Hermione could. That was something.

"Yeah, she probably knows that it's me who's the more attractive one," George nudged Hermione gently, but she stumbled into Fred anyway. He caught her and shot George a look as he steadied Hermione. "She figures if you're not as good-looking, you must be Fred."

Hermione rolled her eyes as the three began to walk down the lane again.

* * *

As they rounded the last corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the _Daily Prophe_ t clutched in her hand.

"Arthur-I've been so worried- _so worried_ -"

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley' neck, and the _Daily Prophet_ fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Hermione, the twins, Ron, and Harry saw the headline: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_ , complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

To everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George next and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

" _Ouch!_ Mum-you're strangling us-"

As Mrs. Weasley apologised to the twins for scolding them earlier, Hermione stared at the photo of the Dark Mark and skimmed the article underneath: ... _Ministry blunders...culprits not apprehended...lax security...Dark wizards running unchecked...national disgrace..._

The author of the article was a name that Hermione didn't recognise; a woman named Rita Skeeter.

Later, when they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Odgens Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

Not wanting to sit still, all the kids stood around the table as Mr. Weasley read, waiting impatiently to hear what was written about the incident.

Mr. Weasley read a few word snippets from the article, and then, when he saw who wrote it, said with a bit of disgust, "Rita Skeeter."

"You know," Fred leaned in to Hermione's ear, "Rita Skeeter has been notorious for lying in her articles. Some people say she's written stories about Dumbledore, saying that he was involved with some Death Eaters early on. Not many people believed it, of course, because it's utter rubbish, but storied like that can't help but get some speculation from someone."

Hermione nodded in agreement as Percy complained loudly about Skeeter's criticisms of the Ministry.

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if that wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the-"

"Do us a favour, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up."

* * *

 **I am so terribly sorry.**

 **That is all I have to say for myself. I have tried to work on upcoming chapters as much as possible, but these past few months have been horrifically tough on me, my family, and my friends.**

 **But now I should be able to focus more on writing, so that's good news!**

 **All my love and wishes for a happy Thanksgiving,**

 **B**


	8. Mayhem at the Ministry & Quidditch

**Mayhem at the Ministry & Quidditch in the Orchard**

"I'm mentioned," said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.

"Where?" spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea and whiskey. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"

"Not by name," said Mr. Weasley. "Listen to this: ' _If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen._ ' Oh really," said Mr. Weasley in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. "Nobody was hurt. What was I supposed to say? Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods...well, there certainly will be rumors now she's printed that."

He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," said Percy importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

He bustled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley looked most upset.

"Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly," said Mr. Weasley. "I've make things worse. I'll just change my robes and I'll be off..."

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, unable to contain himself, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No...no, there hasn't been any post at all."

Ron and Hermione looked curiously at Harry. With a meaningful look at both of them he said, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah...think I will too," said Ron at once. "Hermione?"

"Yes," she said after a quick glance at Fred and George, and the three of them marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Wonder what that's about," said George curiously.

Fred only shrugged. "Probably off to talk about the Cup, most likely." Although he didn't quite believe himself, he was almost instantly reabsorbed into the previous conversation happening in the kitchen.

"What's up, Harry?" said Ron, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looked dumbstruck.

"But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him...him and Peter - you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill...someone."

"It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it?...My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth.

"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?"

Professor Trelawney was their Divination teacher at Hogwarts. Hermione's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort.

"Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," said Harry. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again...greater and more terrible than ever before...and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him...and that night Wormtail escaped."

There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absentmindedly with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius will know what to do!"

"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry.

"But we don't know where Sirius is...he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he?" said Hermione reasonably. "Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."

"Yeah, I know," said Harry as he looked out of the window at the Hedwig-free sky.

"Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry" said Ron. "Come on-three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play... You can try out the Wronski Feint..."

"Ron," said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now... He's worried, and he's tired... We all need to go to bed..."

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt."

Hermione left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like " _Boys_."

* * *

As Hermione made her way downstairs, she thought about what Harry had said about his scar and how he had written to Sirius. She planned on making her way out to the orchard to wait for Ron and Harry, but she figured she would inform the other players about their spontaneous game. Luckily, they were all sitting in the living room where she could make a general announcement.

"Hello everyone," she started, and the Weasley children all looked up at her. "Harry and Ron are going to play some Quidditch out in the orchard if anyone wants to play."

Percy, who had been reading, pursed his lips and returned to his book. Both Bill and Charlie, though, jumped up at the mention of Quidditch, with Fred and George following suit.

"I can never pass up an opportunity for Quidditch," Bill said excitedly. "I never seem to have much time for it in Egypt. Want to be on my team then, Charlie?"

"Of course!" Charlie started to walk a little faster than Bill. "Race you to the shed!"

The two oldest raced out of the house, leaving the Twins and Ginny left to move. Hermione looked at them expectantly, not sure if they would play or not. "I suppose we should practice a bit before school, eh George?" Fred looked at his brother. "We need to make sure we maintain our positions as 'Supreme Beaters'."

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows. "That's not a real thing."

"Oh yeah?" George asked.

Ginny nodded sternly.

"Well, we just made it up, but that doesn't mean it's not real to us!" He answered with a fake sniffle. "Come on, Freddie, let's go play some Quidditch!" George led the way out of the house, making sure to make the exit as dramatic as possible, stomping all the way.

And then there were two.

Hermione walked over to Ginny. "Come on, Gin, you have to play; I'm not going to."

Ginny just shook her head.

"Ginny, _get up_!" Hermione stressed as she tried to hoist the youngest Weasley out of the sunken armchair. "Don't make me call your brothers!" Ginny released all the muscular tension she was holding and let her whole body go lax.

Hermione had no choice.

"Fred! George!" She called over her shoulder. The two Weasleys popped their heads inside the door at the summons.

"Yes, dear?" George answered first.

"Your sister won't move, and I've told her that she _must_ play Quidditch!" Hermione said, exasperated.

The twins seemed to know what to do without even sharing a word or a glance with one another. The two boys walked to each side of their sister, grabbed her by the arms, and hoisted her up between them, Ginny kicking and thrashing all the while.

"Hermione!" Ginny screamed. "They don't know!"

Hermione was slightly taken aback. They don't know? Know what?

And then it hit her-the rest of the family didn't know that Ginny could actually play Quidditch. Only Hermione knew that for the past few months, Ginny had been breaking into the family shed, where the brooms are kept, and was practicing when the boys weren't around. "Wait!" Hermione yelled suddenly, "Wait, she can't play!"

The boys stopped. "Why not?" asked George.

"Because," Hermione tried to quickly come up with a tale, "she sprained her ankle, I just now remembered." She hoped that this lie would satisfy the boys enough to let her down.

"Well, she can still play then!" Fred said. "You only need your ankles to help you push off the ground at the beginning."

Hermione needed to try again. "She also…well, I don't really think you want to know…she has very bad aches, you see. That's why she's been eating so much this week, to try and subdue them, but it hasn't worked well. Really, they're quite painful, so she shouldn't play at all this week."

The Twins put Ginny down and surveyed at her with undefined looks. George spoke, "Well, if that's it, Gin, you could've said. We do know _some things_ , you know."

Ginny only harrumphed and glared at Hermione; she knew Ginny would probably hex her later.

"Oh well, you can still watch." Fred said as he waited for the girls to follow. "We need a few people to critique us on our flying."

"Why would you ask the girl who knows nothing about Quidditch for pointers?" Hermione laughed and shook her head.

Fred shrugged. "Well, sometimes the best people for the job are the people that don't know what to correct, so they just watch and enjoy the game." George nodded in agreement.

"Well…I suppose," Hermione walked out with Ginny in front of the boys to the back orchard. The girls waited by a young apple tree as the players got their equipment and established teams.

"Alright," Bill started, "I call Charlie and Harry."

"That's no fair!" Fred and George exclaimed. "Harry's one of the best on the team!"

"Exactly," said Bill.

"Well, that means that you have three players on your team, and we only have two!" Fred pointed out. "It needs to be fair, Bill."

Bill thought about it for a minute, turned to the girls and said, "Alright, which one of you fine maidens is going to be on our team? I'll sit out the first round, to make it fair, and then we'll swap from there."

Hermione's eyes widened with fright and she turned to Ginny. "Gin…"

"Don't look at me," Ginny chided. "I can't play, remember? My abdomen's hurting me _something awful_."

She bent over double as she clutched her sides in fake agony. She smirked at Hermione as she stood back up again.

"Fine," Hermione said curtly. "I'll play. But you owe me."

Ginny stared back at her. "Consider us even."

Hermione turned to walk to her team and took a deep breath. She had never even attempted to play Quidditch, and now she had to play with some of the best players from Hogwarts. She knew she was going to fail, and fail miserably. Merlin help her.

Slowly, she approached Charlie and Harry, the latter handing her a broom. Harry placed both hands on her shoulders; he probably could feel her shaking.

"Ready?"

* * *

 **March is truly an awful month.**

 **Not only is it basketball 'March Madness', but it's when all of the fine arts programs at my school have their contests, competitions, trips, etc.**

 **And, you know, my birthday, which just gets in the way.**

 **Hopefully I'll start on the next chapter soon!**

 **Bundles of love,**

 **B**


	9. Quidditch Matches & Cooling Off

**Quidditch Matches & Cooling Off**

Hermione took a deep breath and looked around. "Wait," she started, "isn't Ron going to play?" She hoped that if she could get Ron to be her sub, she wouldn't have to play.

George answered her. "No, he's the scorekeeper," Ron walked out of the shed with a Quaffle. "Ron doesn't really play all that much, I don't think he likes it, really."

Hermione gulped; that was her last hope of escaping this punishment given to her by Ginny. And now that hope was gone.

Hermione's palms started sweating as Ron walked to the centre of the field, Quaffle in hand, and stopped.

"Alright," Ron looked at both sides. "The first team to get to one-hundred points wins. No pushing, kicking, biting, spitting, or spell use-" he threw a glance at the Twins, "-in this game, or your team will be disqualified. Ready..." Both teams pushed off the ground, Hermione wobbling into the air. "And...go!" He threw the ball up into the air.

Bill caught the ball and immediately threw it to Charlie who dove under George's outstretched arm and passed the ball to Harry, who up until this point had been flying near Hermione lest she would fall. When the latter saw the ball coming towards her, she ducked as Harry grabbed it with one hand and raced the rest of the way to the scoring hoops, earning his team ten points.

George swerved around so he was facing Hermione. "Hey Granger!" he called with his hand cupped around his mouth and Hermione looked up. "You let the wrong team score!" he grinned as Fred sniggered.

Hermione reddened and looked at the ground below her. "Sorry," she said, mostly to herself.

"Oh go easy on her guys, it's her first time playing," Bill scolded his brothers as he flew over to Hermione. "It's ok, really, it's just practice," he tried to console her as the twins flew around the opposite end of the field.

"Yeah, if we were playing for the House Cup we would've hit a Bludger towards her ages ago-got her out of the way," George said as he threw to Fred, who made a pointed look.

Ginny, who was on that end and heard her brother, scowled up at them. "Don't think you're all high and mighty; Hermione could easily beat you both in a duel!"

At this, Hermione looked over to Ginny and the Twins, who had stopped circling and were looking right at their sister.

"Don't get us wrong, we know that, sis-" Fred started with a look to George.

"-but it's just so much fun to criticise her Quidditch playing," George ended with a grin.

Ginny just purses her lips and crossed her arms. Hermione looked toward the twins. "It's alright," she said, "I know I'm rubbish. I don't normally play."

Fred flew over to her with a lip-sided smile on his face. "We know, Granger, we're just poking fun. You never really know how bad you are until you try, right Forge?" he finished, calling over his shoulder to his other half.

George flew over to pat Fred on the back. "Right you are, Gred. We didn't really know how badly we could do in school until we stopped trying, and that's kind of the same thing, yeah?"

Fred nodded as Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, if it's ok with you, I'm going to put myself back on solid ground and read for a bit. I'll come back out later, but I just want to rest for now."

The twins nodded in unison. "That's alright, 'Mione, we'll make Ron come up and play; he hasn't been on a broom for ages, I bet he's worse than you," George looked pitifully at their younger brother. "Oi, Ron! You're going to be Hermione's replacement, so you'd better be ready!"

Ron, who had been sitting under a tree with Ginny observing, looked up at the players and gulped.

"Don't be silly, George," Fred chastised his twin, "no one could ever replace our Hermione."

George feigned remorse, placing a hand on his chest. "Of course, my sincerest apologies, dearest Hermione; how could I ever think that anyone, especially Ron, could replace your brilliance and beauty?"

Hermione shook her head at the boys' nonsense and landed (somewhat unsteadily) near Ron.

The twins watched her dismount and George turned to Fred and gave him a look. "'Our Hermione', huh?"

Fred continued watching Hermione. "Well, she _is_ ours."

And with that, Hermione walked into the house and the game resumed.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later found Hermione still reading, but she was being distracted by the sounds of the game outside. Going over to the window, she watched as the boys swirled around each other, trying to steal the ball. She glanced up towards the sky and saw that it was darkening quickly. Deciding to warn the others of the upcoming weather, Hermione marked the page in her book and made her way downstairs.

The players were just dismounting their brooms as she walked over to them, and the boys were talking about the match.

"That was brilliant, Harry," Bill said in awe of the younger boy. "I've never seen anyone at Hogwarts play that well, let alone a Seeker."

"Yeah," added Charlie, "those dives you spun out of-I couldn't even attempt half of them that well!"

As the boys continued praising Harry and discussing details that Hermione had missed while inside, the latter went over to talk to Ginny.

"You know," she said to get the younger girl's attention. "I think it's going to rain soon."

Ginny looked up at the sky. "Yeah, looks like." She turned to her brothers. "Hey you lot, if you want to get wet, fine by me, but I'm going inside now before it pours."

The boys looked at her, and then looked up. The twins looked at each other and shrugged, but followed the others to the shed to store their brooms and head inside.

Before they got to the house, however, Hermione felt a few drops on her head and looked at the clouds. She kept walking and tripped, catching herself on her hands at the last minute.

"Hermione! Are you ok?" Ginny hurried to her fallen friend.

Hermione sat up with a wince, "Yeah...I just don't know what I tripped on."

"Was it your feet?" Ron asked with only a slight amount of sarcasm.

"No, Ronald," Hermione shot him a look, "it wasn't my feet." She looked around her and saw that she had tripped over a stray gnome who was now on his way towards the hedge. Before the gnome made it under, Fred ran back to catch it. He picked it up, spun it over his head, and chucked it over the hedge and into the field.

By this time, more rain was falling, and the group was getting soaked. They hurried towards the door of the Burrow and stood inside the house, still near the door.

"Hey George," Fred turned to his brother, "how long has it been since we've been out in the rain?"

George just shrugged. "I'd reckon...Merlin, I don't remember."

"Exactly," Fred stated. "Why go inside with these buggers when we can freshen up after our game right out here?"

George smirked. "That sounds like an excellent idea, brother mine."

The two rain back outside and started charming the water to hit each other in the face.

"Come on, you lot!" Fred called over to the others. "You're missing out on-"

He didn't get to finish. George had aimed perfectly towards his mouth. The rally to call the others out was now forgotten by Fred, who was currently trying to spit the water in his mouth out at George who was running through the garden.

"I guess the rain couldn't hurt," Ginny said to Hermione before she grabbed her hand and pulled her outside. "Let's go!"

"I don't know about this, Gin," Hermione tried to resist her body being pulled by the younger girl as the remainder of their group jogged past them and over to the twins. "I've never really cared for rain much."

"Oh Hermione, come on, it'll be fun!" Then Ginny's voice softened and Hermione noticed that she'd taken a smirk. "And he's out there, too."

Hermione tried glaring at her (but failed miserably) before finally speaking. "...Oh, shut up."

She let Ginny pull her the rest of the way outside.

"Hey, glad you could join us, ladies!" Fred said to them as they approached.

"Well, we decided that it doesn't hurt to have fun once in a while, right 'Mione?" Ginny turned to her friend.

"Yeah," Hermione answered nervously.

"I just can't believe that Hermione agreed to come out here with you, Gin. I would be a losing man if I'd bet on it." George said with a surprised, but happy, expression.

"I can have fun too, you know, George," Hermione defended herself. She crossed her arms over her chest in indignation. "Just because I like to ready and study,-"

Fred cut her off by putting his hands on her shoulders. "He didn't mean it like that, Hermione. He only meant that we thought that you'd rather be inside and dry; he meant he didn't think you'd want to hang out with us."

That calmed her down a bit. "I guess...I'm sorry, George. It's just, me being who I am, I'm always perceived as the 'uptight, rule-following bookworm', which I can be sometimes, when it's important, but not all the time."

George nodded and Fred pulled her in to a side-hug. "I get it, Hermione, and I'm sorry. But hey, let's not let this spoil our fun!"

He ran a few feet away until he turned around and looked up at the house. He picked up a pebble and chucked it at an upstairs window. A few seconds later, Percy stuck his head out the window.

"What do you need?" he asked, rather annoyed.

"Nothing, just wanted to say 'hi'. Can't I say hi to my older brother without anything else?" George faked hurt.

Percy just narrowed his eyes. "No."

George grinned up at him, "You're right, I can't!" He then proceeded to aim a water-ball directly at Percy's window.

Percy was frozen as the ball of water hurtled towards his face, drenching him and his surroundings.

"YOU'VE JUST SOAKED MY PAPERWORK THAT I'M SCHEDULED TO PERSONALLY DELIVER TO MR. CROUCH TOMORROW-"

"I'm sure it wasn't that important in the first place, Perce, if they let you work on it!" George called back, knowing that his comment would anger his brother more.

Percy was absolutely fuming. He slammed his window shut and moved out of view.

"Well, that was entertaining," George grinned at his twin and the girls.

Realising that she was still being held by Fred, Hermione pulled away gently and pushed her hair behind her ears as it was now drenched and she wanted to get it out of the way. Fred just put his hands in his pockets and stared intently at Percy's window.

"Yeah," Ginny, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened, called back to George. "But you're going to hear about that for the rest of your life now."

George just shrugged. "It was fun though."

Hermione went to stand closer to Ginny. "I think I'll go inside now; I've had enough rain for today."

Ginny nodded. "I'll come with you."

As they walked up the stairs to Ginny's room, sounds of the boys outside followed them.

When they reached their destination, Hermione hurried in and Ginny locked the door behind them.

"Ok, what happened?" Ginny prodded as she sat on her bed and Hermione paced around the room.

"I don't know!" she said, grabbing handfuls of her hair and trying to take deep, slow breaths. "He hugged me."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I saw that. I mean, what happened? Why did you pull away from him?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "I don't know...I mean, I couldn't have just stayed like that, could I? It would've been even more awkward if I hadn't left."

"Well, now it's going to be awkward because you pulled away, so you don't win either way."

"It will only be different it he acts like it is. I hope I won't come across as acting strange around him, but if I do, please, punch me."

Ginny stood up to go console her friend. "Hermione," she said. "Hermione," she said again when the girl didn't look at her, "you need to tell him. For all you know, he could feel the same way about you."

Hermione stood up and continued pacing. "What if he doesn't, though? It'll ruin our friendship, and Mrs. Weasley would be confused, so would Ron and Harry, so I'd have to explain to them-"

Ginny shook her head. "You're just thinking of all the bad things; what about if he does fancy you?"

Hermione calmed at these words. "That would...that would be the most wonderful thing...I would be so happy, Ginny. Truly happy. I can't explain it better than that."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "I know-that's the way I feel about Harry."

Hermione looked confused. "But...didn't you tell him at the World Cup?"

"I told him I was only joking, that I only said that so you would tell me who you fancied."

Hermione's face softened. "Oh Ginny..."

Ginny dismissed her condolences. "It's alright, really, it's probably good that I told him I was joking so that he doesn't feel obligated to like me back; you know Harry. Besides, he might fancy me someday on his own."

Hermione nodded. She sincerely hoped that two of her best friends would get together. That would make her happy, too.

* * *

"So, Gred, what was that thing with Hermione out in the garden?" George wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at his brother.

Fred just rolled his eyes. "Nothing.

"It was not 'nothing'. You were holding her, for starters."

"I was trying to be nice because you had upset her!" Fred shot at his twin.

George's hands flew up. "I was just joking, but she did seem rather upset. You could've let her go after you hugged her, but you didn't, so why didn't you?"

Fred sighed. "I don't know, I kind of forgot what I was doing, to be honest. I just felt like I needed to hold her, I guess."

George's eyebrows raised and his lips disappeared into a thin smile. "You should tell her that, see what she says. You never know, she might say the same thing back."

"I doubt it, since she pulled away."

"Well maybe that was because she likes you and didn't want it to be awkward."

Fred only scoffed. "I'll tell her someday, George. Just not now."

"While we're still at Hogwarts?"

"I don't know."

"It's going to be harder to tell her when we're done; we won't see her everyday anymore, you know."

Fred nodded and sighed again. "Someday."

* * *

 **I hope you like this chapter, I made it myself (haha, I'm so funny!)**

 **Anyway, I have NO IDEA what happened to the previous version of chapter 9...oh well. It's fixed now.**


	10. A Helping Hand & Visitors On the Train

**A Helping Hand & Aboard the Hogwarts Express**

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Hermione awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as she got dressed in jeans and a top; they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express.

Walking over to the bathroom to wash her face, Hermione heard the twins talking in their room about something they were working on.

"If we could just manage to make it blend with the unicorn horn, we'd be set," one of the twins said with slight anxiousness in his voice.

The other one added, "We've tried the powdered moonstone, but that caused our skin to change colours-"

"What are you two talking about?" Hermione said as she appeared in their doorway.

"How to make a love potion to get you to fall in love with me, Granger," George winked at her.

Fred smacked him on the arm, "I thought that was supposed to be for me, you liar!" he faked some tears, "I thought you loved me!"

Hermione just waited them out, knowing that the twins could go on like this for hours. "Would you like me to help you with something?"

They both turned to her, their eyes wide and grins on their faces.

"Oh, dearest Hermione," George batted his eyelashes dramatically, "how kind of you to offer your assistance to us less clever folk-"

"-we will be forever in your debt if you would be so kind as to lend us your intellect." Fred finished with a hand over his heart.

Hermione walked into the room and examined a small cauldron full of a bubbling mixture. "What are you trying to make?"

"We're working on our products, and right now we're trying to perfect the Fever Fudge," George looked over her shoulder. "We just need to find an ingredient that positively reacts with ground unicorn horn. We tried powdered moonstone, but-"

"It changed your skin colours, I heard," Hermione said. "You know, if this is one of your prank projects, I don't know if I want anything to do with it."

" _Prank projects_?" Fred said, feigning disbelief. "My dear, this is not a 'prank project', as you so eloquently put it; this is a lifestyle, a job that no wizard has taken up before now."

"This is our passion, Hermione," George waved a hand over the cauldron, "and we would be ever so grateful if you helped us accomplish it."

Hermione pursed her lips. This was everything that she had stood against throughout her school career, but what the twins were doing, this kind of magic, was really extraordinary.

Fred's face fell a little and he spoke, looking at his shoes. "Haven't you ever wanted something so much that you would do anything to try and make it real?" he asked in little more than a whisper, looking at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. George snuck a glance at his brother before looking at the cauldron.

"That's how we feel about this, Hermione," George said. "This is the one thing we've truly wanted for years, but no one thinks we can or should do it."

Hermione bit her lip and said softly, "I'll help you."

The twins both breathed a sigh of relief and high-fived behind her back.

Just then, Mrs. Weasley's frantic voice was heard.

"Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"

"I wonder what that's about," George walked over and stuck his head out the door. "I hope it's nothing too serious."

"Maybe it's still news about the Cup?" Fred suggested.

George pulled his head back in to the room and shrugged, making his way back over to the other two.

"Alright," said Hermione, wanting to finish before breakfast, "what are the ingredients you've put in, and what are you trying to add?"

The new trio immediately started their work.

* * *

The three worked until Mrs. Weasley's voice called up the stairs yet again, this time saying breakfast was ready.

Fred, George, and Hermione discussed their work as they descended the stairs to the kitchen.

"So it was just a matter of adding syrup of hellebore after the moonstone, stirring it counter-clockwise, and _then_ adding the unicorn horn?" George looked as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle.

"Yes, but you have to be exact with the adding and stirring, otherwise it'll explode." Hermione said over her shoulder.

"Brilliant," the twins said together.

"Well, it's an easy mistake to make if you're not reading from a book, which you're not, so-"

"Wait," Fred stopped her, "Mum's in earshot."

Sure enough, from where they were standing, the three could see Mrs. Weasley bustling about the kitchen, making sure Harry had had enough to eat.

As they went the rest of the way down, Mrs. Weasley glanced at them.

"There you three are, what have you been doing?"

Before they could answer, the witch continued speaking. "Come and eat, your breakfast is getting cold."

As the three sat down, Hermione noticed Mr. Weasley crouched by the fireplace with a quill and parchment in one hand.

"...I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said a man's voice, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."

Hermione leaned back in her chair to see whose voice was speaking to Mr. Weasley. Amos Diggory's head was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.

"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen.

"Sorry about this, Molly," the head said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything...but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night..."

"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"

"Oh, go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.

Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth.

"Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished.

Hermione could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Ginny. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, dragging a comb through his hair.

"I'd better hurry-you have a good term, Hermione, boys," said Mr. Weasley to Hermione, Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"

"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine."

As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.

"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now."

"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter -"

"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly.

"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather..."

Hermione gave Fred a disapproving look. He just shrugged in response.

"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie.

"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" said Fred. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything..."

"Who is Mad-Eye?" asked Harry.

"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror - one of the best...a Dark wizard catcher," he added, seeing Harry's blank look. "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though...the families of people he caught, mainly...and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."

Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.

"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me."

"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."

Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London.

"Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to Hermione and Harry as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare...Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?"

Hermione didn't like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg.

The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that they were jammed in the back of the taxis with their trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time they entered London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all severely scratched. They were very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and they got soaked carrying their trunks across the busy road and into the station.

Hermione was used to getting onto platform nine and three-quarters by now, though it wasn't her favourite thing. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups today; Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it...and as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them.

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. They then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it...it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?" said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with...one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you...Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"

But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what -"

"Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

"...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do..."

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

"I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

"Er - why not?" said Harry.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts - how are you going to hide a great big castle?"

"But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione, in surprise. "Everyone knows that...well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway."

"Just you, then," said Ron. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"

"It's bewitched," said Hermione. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."

"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"

"Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"

"Come again?"

"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"

"Er...if you say so," said Harry.

"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident...Shame his mother likes him..."

The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for them to share.

Several of their friends looked in on them as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his formidable witch of a grandmother. Seamus was still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm. Seamus and Dean departed as Fred and George popped in to check on the trio. When they heard talk about the Cup, they decided to stay and have a chat.

Neville listened jealously to the others' conversation as they relived the Cup match.

"Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."

"It was," said Ron. "Look at this, Neville..."

He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum.

"Yeah, and we called the game before it even started-Ireland won but Krum caught the Snitch." Fred said to Neville, who was thoroughly impressed.

"Yeah, we were owed quite a bit of money from Bagman..." George said under his breath, and his face tensed.

"Oh wow," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand.

"We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box -"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."

Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar when they left. Fred and George stood as Malfoy leaned against the doorframe.

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.

"Weasley...what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious.

Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety..."

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.

"So...going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know...you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."

Fred raised his wand, ready to hex Malfoy, but was stopped by a hand grasped tightly on his sleeve.

"Fred, don't!" Hermione whispered. "You'll get in trouble; wait until we get to school and then you can prank him if you really want to." Her eyes pleaded with him, and he lowered his wand. Hermione let go of the now slightly wrinkled sleeve.

"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron. The twins just glared.

"Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, having closed her book.

A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face

"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago...heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry...Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley...yes...they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him..."

Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.

Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.

"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered "Reparo!" and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.

"Well...making it look like he knows everything and we don't..." Ron snarled. "'Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry'...Dad could've got a promotion any time...he just likes it where he is..."

"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -"

"Him! Get to me!? As if!" said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.

"We better get back to Lee," Fred said, still staring at the spot where Malfoy had been.

"Yeah, wouldn't want him to think we were going to break any rules without him." George finished, and the two exited the compartment without a proper goodbye.

Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione fervently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages stood waiting for them outside the station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.


	11. The Triwizard Tournament

**A/N: I know I've said this before, but I want to say it again just to clarify: Some of the dialogue of the chapters may seem really familiar to you, and that's because I've incorporated a lot of the plot from the books into my story. It helps with the sub-plot, and it helps with the timeline of events-but of course, I write my own things into it. I won't be writing in every chapter from the book, just the big ones that have important information. As we get into later chapters, they will be more original, only touching on the book plot for clarity, and again, for timeline.**

 **Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

 **B**

* * *

 **The Triwizard Tournament**

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Hermione could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak-ARRGH!"

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped - narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry's feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers. People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. Hermione looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger -"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves -"

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

"Good evening," he said, beaming at them.

"Says who?" said Harry, taking off his sneakers and emptying them of water. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."

Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.

"Hiya, Harry!"

It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry was something of a hero.

"Hi, Colin," said Harry warily.

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Er - good," said Harry.

"He's really excited!" said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?"

"Er - yeah, all right," said Harry. He turned back to Hermione, Ron, and Nearly Headless Nick. "Brothers and sisters usually go in the same Houses, don't they?" he said.

"Oh no, not necessarily," said Hermione. "Parvati Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical. You'd think they'd be together, wouldn't you?"

Harry looked past her, so Hermione turned to see what Harry had been looking at. She looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was another empty chair too, and Hermione couldn't think who else was missing.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Hermione, who was now naming off all the subjects in her head, looking anxious. "Maybe they couldn't get anyone!"

She scanned the table more carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape - their least favorite person at Hogwarts.

On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which Hermione guessed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. Hermione glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and she had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, beside Harry, "I could eat a hippogriff."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school - all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Harry recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it hooked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, 'I fell in the lake!' He looked positively delighted about it.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and Hermione knew the hat was going to sing.

"Merlin, I hate this part," said a voice kitty-corner from her.

"Yeah, as if we needed another thing to keep us from dinner," another answered.

Hermione glared down across the table and saw Fred, George, and Lee sitting beside Neville.

Lee saw her and sheepishly waved while nudging the twins so that they too saw Hermione. Fred smiled at her and George winked.

The Hat sang it's ballad as Hermione and the twins had a quiet discussion.

"The song is for the first years to learn a little bit about their house," she told them as they batted their eyelashes at her. "I think it's entertaining as well as educational; the Hat has to come up with a new song every year, you know."

"If that's all we had to do all year, we'd make up a song too,-" George said.

"-we'd just make it a bit more...colourful," Fred smirked and Hermione widened her eyes.

"Please don't set off any fireworks, not now," Hermione pleaded. "It's the start-of-term feast!"

"We wouldn't think of doing anything at the start of term, Granger,-" George scoffed

"-we do like to make it at least one day out of the year without any trouble. " Fred told her, but Hermione had a hard time believing him.

"Besides, we don't have enough products to produce the impact we would want," George finished.

"There it is," Hermione said as she rolled her eyes and turned back to face the front.

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," said Harry, clapping along with everyone else.

"Sings a different one every year," said Ron. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; Hermione could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. She wondered whether Malcolm knew that Slytherin House had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other. Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming - a misleading impression, for Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature. He winked at them as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide -

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

"Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?"

Hermione smiled as Harry looked away, staring very hard at the Sorting Hat, now Sorting Emma Dobbs.

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said Nearly Headless Nick as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

"Course it is, if you're dead," snapped Ron.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship for the last three years in a row.

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as Harry, Ron, and Hermione loaded their own plates.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" said Harry, through a sizable chunk of steak.

"Peeves, of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast - well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council - the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance - but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

If Nick said the Bloody Baron said 'no' to Peeves, she knew he would listen. He was the only person at Hogwarts who could really control Peeves.

"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," said Ron darkly. "So what did he do in the kitchens?"

"Oh the usual," said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits -"

Clang.

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but she paid no attention.

"There are house-elves here?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" said Hermione.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning...see to the fires and so on...I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Hermione stared at him.

"But they get paid?" she said. "They get holidays, don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.

"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops-sorry, 'Arry-" He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor."

And she refused to eat another bite.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

"Treacle tart, Hermione!" said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell toward her. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"

But Hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he gave up.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

His gaze flitted to the Weasley Twins, and they winked back at the headmaster.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students," he looked again to the twins, "as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any she had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbhedore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Moody?" Hermione heard Harry mutter to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice.

"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"

"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Hermione saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time...no..." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. Her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Hermione could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors.

"It's extremely dangerous!" Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.

"I know, but think of what happens if you win?" He got a dreamy look in his eyes. "Gold, fame, bragging rights, what more could you want?"

"Life!" said Hermione rather frantically. "Think of what would happen if you died!"

George turned to his twin with a grin. "Yeah, I'd be stuck here all by myself with no one to prank with!"

"Oi, what am I here for then?" Lee smacked George's arm.

But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This -" Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!" said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd (along with Lee) moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..."

"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" said Harry.

"Dunno," said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George..."

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," said Ron.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"People have died, though!" Hermione emphasized again in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older...Dunno if we've learned enough..."

"I definitely haven't," came Neville's gloomy voice from behind Fred and George.

"I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to - oops..."

Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of the older students to jump this particular step, but Neville's memory was notoriously poor. Harry and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily.

"Shut it, you," said Ron, banging down its visor as they passed.

They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as they approached.

"Balderdash," said George, "a prefect downstairs told me."

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look and distinctly muttered "Slave labor" before bidding them good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls' dormitory.

Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Neville climbed up the last, spiral staircase. When they reached their dorm, the twins bade the other three goodnight as they continued to climb. As they entered, they saw Lee already in the process of unpacking, along with their other two roommates Lance O'Connor and Pollux Vaughn and decided to start themselves.

"We need to think of a way to bypass the age rule," Fred said as he put his shirts in his drawer.

"Who do you suppose is the impartial judge Dumbledore talked about?" Lee asked as he sat down on his bed.

"I dunno, but we need to find out somehow if we're going to fool him." George rubbed the back of his neck. "It must be someone Dumbledore knows…" He watched Lance walk over to the bathroom with his pyjamas.

"Not necessarily," Pollux chimed in. "If Dumbledore said he's impartial, he could be from an entirely different part of the country, or even someone foreign."

"I just want to know when he's coming so we know when to be ready," Fred turned to his brother. "We need to start soon."

George nodded with a yawn. "Yeah, but not now; I'm exhausted."

Lance had returned from the bathroom. "You said it. Night lads."

"Night."

As the twins climbed into their four-posters, they kept their curtains open so they could face each other. By the light of their wands, they continued talking.

"Hey George," Fred quietly called.

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear what Hermione said on the train today?"

"Which part?"

"When Malfoy was in the compartment with us, I had my wand raised. She told me not to hurt them on the train, but she said I could prank them here if I insisted."

George gave him a look of shock. "Really? Hermione Granger said that?" He looked away from Fred. "What has the world come to?"

"But George, don't you realise what this means? We might have changed her attitude towards pranking by having her help us with our Fever Fudge at home! We might actually be able to be friends with her and not have her scold us all the time!"

"Well, I doubt that she'll quit scolding us, but yeah, we might be better friends with her now," George smirked. " _You'll_ be better friends with her. You might even get to take her to Hogsmeade, if she feels you're worthy enough for her."

"Oh shut it," Fred said half-heartedly, for he was now thinking of what it would be like getting closer to Hermione, and even taking her out to Hogsmeade…

"You'll have to fight Ron for her, though," George broke him out of his reverie.

"Come off it, Ron doesn't fancy Hermione," Fred scoffed, "they're constantly bickering. He's awfully rude to her, you know."

George gave in with a shrug. "I guess you're right. Well, anyway, we should get some sleep. We need to start thinking of plans tomorrow.

"Right. Night Georgie," Fred said as he rolled to his other side.

"Night Freddie."

Thoughts of himself and a bushy-haired girl sitting by the fire in Three Broomsticks filled his mind, and Fred had the best night of sleep he'd had in a long time.


	12. Mad-Eye Moody

**Mad-Eye Moody**

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, thoughtful the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

"Today's not bad...outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures...damn it, we're still with the Slytherins..."

"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down.

"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy."

"You're eating again, I notice," said Ron, watching Hermione adding liberal amounts of jam to her toast too.

"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily.

"Yeah...and you were hungry," said Ron, grinning.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a parcel into his lap - Neville almost always forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall Draco Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home. Hermione watched as he opened a particularly large brown package and took out what looked like a broom care kit, rather like the one Hermione had gotten Harry a year before, though the outer rim was incased in what appeared to be solid gold with the Malfoy Crest emblazoned on the leather front. As Malfoy's friends sat around admiring his new gift, he glanced up across the table and caught Hermione's gaze. He smirked as she inhaled sharply and looked away.

Hermione walked with Harry and Ron down to Herbology that morning to greenhouse three, where all three were distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class a new type of plant. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers," Hermione whispered to herself as she anticipated today's lesson.

Harry, who had barely caught what she had said, turned to her with a look of slight disgust on his face. "Bubo-?"

"Bubotubers, Potter," Professor Sprout told them. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus-"

"The _what_?" said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Finnigan, pus," said Professor Sprout briskly, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

Finishing up with Potions, the Weasley twins and Lee climbed up the spiral staircase to Defence Against the Dark Arts, where the new Professor would be.

"Wonder what he's like as a professor, Moody," remarked Fred as another class descended beside them. "Dad says he's a great Auror, but I think he's a nutter, what with all that Muggle business flying about."

Lee shrugged. "I suppose we'll see when we get up there. He must be somewhat good, though, if Dumbledore hired him."

George scoffed. "That's not saying much-he's also the man who hired Quirrell and Lockhart. I mean, Lupin was great, but he resigned. The job is cursed, I tell you."

As they entered the classroom and walked towards their desks, they saw Angelina Johnson talking to Alicia Spinnet and Travis Moore about things she had heard from other students.

"I hear he likes to perform dangerous spells as lessons; Unforgivable Curses and such," Angelina said quietly as she tightened her hold on a book and Alicia swallowed a lump in her throat.

Travis nodded. "Yeah, and I've heard that his eye can see out of the back of his head."

George popped into the conversation, "And his leg is made out of the molten wands of his enemies."

"And his hands have touched You-Know-Who himself, so they're all mangled," chimed in Fred.

Angelina hit them both with the book she was holding. "Oh, stuff it, you two."

"She's right. Now, take your seats so we can start, or you'll be my first volunteers."

The group, slightly startled by the voice, whirled around only to see their new professor, Alastor Moody, watching them from the top of his staircase. His one real eye was watching them intently, and his other one, almost like glass, was whirling around in it's metal socket, as if taking in its surroundings through the back of Moody's head.

Not wanting to find out what they'd have to volunteer for, the five students hurried to sit down, anxiously watching Moody to see how he would start.

"How many of you know all the different types of dark arts there are in this world?" Moody scanned the class with a narrow eye, almost daring someone to raise their hand. Fred and George exchanged quick glances. "None of you, eh? Well, you're about to find out."

He flicked his wand, making the shutters close over the windows. There were a few gasps of surprise, and one of the girls in the back flat-out screamed. He quietly lit a few of the candles near the front of the room.

All of the sudden there was a flash of blue light and a CRACK, and where Moody once stood was now a silver being. It wasn't quite a statue, but it wasn't a human, either.

All of the sudden spells were being fired at the dummy so fast it looked as if five different people were attacking it. But as Fred saw, Moody alone stood on the side of the room, aiming curse after curse at his target.

When he had finished, the dummy no longer had limbs or a head. In fact, it was no longer standing; it had been reduced to a pile of ash, wisps of coloured smoke rising from it, along with a slightly disturbing odor.

" _Blimey_ ," Lee whispered from behind the twins.

Moody moved back to the front of the room and vanished the debris. "Those curses I just used were ones commonly used by Death Eaters when the Dark Lord rose to power. In the beginning, when they first rose, the followers were a bit tentative about using these kinds of spells freely, but once the Dark Lord gained more power and more important people, they decided they could do whatever they wanted; they wouldn't get in trouble."

Fred couldn't help but wonder what all had happened to Moody during his time as an Auror. He seemed knowledgeable on all types of Dark Magic, and maybe some of his experiences came from being on the wrong end of some of these spells.

The rest of the class progressed with a stable silence, save for answers to questions, as no one wanted to anger their new professor. At the end of class, Mad-Eye assigned work, to be completed by Monday.

"Merlin," said George as they exited the classroom. "We're supposed to look up twenty different Dark spells and their effects; how are we supposed to do that?"

Fred sighed, but quickly took on a smirk. "I have a feeling we're going to have to take a few trips into the Restricted Section of the library."

* * *

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As the Fourth Year Gryffindors drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached Hermione's ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"Come again?" said Ron.

Hagrid pointed down into the crates.

"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.

"Eurgh" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts in Hermione's opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"And why would we _want_ to raise them?" said a cold voice.

The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

"I mean, what do they _do_?" asked Malfoy. "What is the point of them?"

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds' pause, then he said roughly, "Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake - just try 'em out with a bit of each."

"First pus and now this," muttered Seamus.

Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have made Harry, Ron, and Hermione pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts.

" _Ouch!_ " yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. "It got me."

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.

"It's end exploded!" said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.

"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding.

"Eurgh!" said Lavender Brown again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"

"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). "I reckon they're the males...The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies...I think they might be ter suck blood."

"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Malfoy sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"

"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"

Malfoy only scrunched up his nose disgustedly and folded his arms.

Hagrid gave Hermione a furtive smile from behind his bushy beard. Hagrid would have liked nothing better than a pet dragon, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew only too well - he had owned one for a brief period during their first year, a vicious Norwegian Ridgeback by the name of Norbert. Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures, the more lethal, the better.

"Well, at least the skrewts are small," said Ron as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.

"They are _now_ ," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."

"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?" said Ron, grinning slyly at her.

"You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up," said Hermione. "As a matter of fact I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all."

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her.

"Er - is this the new stand on elf rights?" said Ron. "You're going to make yourself sick instead?"

"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."

" _What?_ " said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione - it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and departed at high speed.

When she reached the library, Hermione saw the last three people she would expect to see in between the rows of books.

Fred, George, and Lee were huddled around a table with many large books sprawled around them, all open to rather odd pages.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked as she approached.

All three heads popped up to look at her, and Fred and George smiled as she stood in between them.

"'Dark Magic Through the Ages'?"

George nodded in mock seriousness. "Yeah, we're trying to figure out how to join the Death Eater club."

Fred raised his eyebrows. "So far, it just looks like we need a parent's permission to join. You earn badges for accomplishments and everything if you want to join too."

Hermione just looked to Lee, who laughed. "We're researching for our assignment for Moody; had to get this out of the Restricted Section. D'you know how long it took us to forge a note from one of the teachers?"

Hermione looked appalled. Fred smacked Lee on his arm.

"Don't tell her that!" He turned to Hermione. "Look, the only reason we forged it was because none of the professors would believe us. I promise," he added when she still looked sceptical.

"What's the homework about, anyway?" Hermione scanned a couple pages of the book.

"We have to name and describe a bunch of dark spells...he's a right scary bloke," George added as an afterthought. "Showed us all sorts of dangerous stuff."

Hermione's eyes widened. "He better not do any of that in my class! You're older, but really, certain spells should not be demonstrated in school, or not until you're in N. E. W. T. level classes with the approval of Dumbledore."

Fred shrugged. "I guess he knows what he's doing, Hermione; Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he didn't. And besides, you try telling him what he shouldn't do."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed defeatedly. "I guess I'll just help you with your homework, then."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Lee said, "I think we've found the book we need."

Hermione snatched up the book. "You three will finish a lot quicker with me helping, and you know it. We can get a start on it before afternoon classes."

None of the boys protested.

"Exactly. Now, where should we start?"

* * *

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as he and Harry joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will..."

"Lots of Divination homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. "Professor Vector didn't give _us_ any at all!"

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily.

They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?" said Ron shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!

 **FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Malfoy looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer _Daily Prophet_ questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house-if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon, Ron..."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know _your_ mother, Malfoy?" said Harry-both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy- "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away.

BANG!

Several people screamed-Hermione saw something white-hot graze the side of Harry's face-he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but there was a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Harry and Hermione spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry - at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.

"No," said Harry, "missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Leave-what?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Not you-him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again-it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..." The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

"Never-do-that-again-" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach - Moody, _is that a student?_ " shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we _never_ use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall wealdy. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock-"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull _clunk_ of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy...You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son...you tell him that from me...Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape...Come on, you..."

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened.

"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret."

Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates.

"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it -"

"Hermione!" said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"

Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed again.

"Don't tell me you're going back to the library this evening?" said Harry, watching her.

"Got to," said Hermione thickly. "Loads to do."

"But you told us Professor Vector -"

"It's not schoolwork," she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.

"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," said George, sitting down opposite Fred.

"Supercool," said Lee, sliding into the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Harry and Ron.

"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.

"He _knows_ , man," said Lee.

"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.

"Knows what it's like to be out there _doing_ it," said George impressively.

"Doing what?" said Harry.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.

"He's seen it all," said George.

"'Mazing," said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.

"We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice.

* * *

 **Again, I will be going on vacation this next week, so I'll have plenty of time to write, I just don't know if I'll be able to post...**

 **Thank you for your reads!**

 **Love,**

 **B**


	13. S P E W & Les Entrées des Deux École

**S. P. E. W. & Les Entrées des Deux Écoles**

 **A/N I'm really sorry. I've actually had this chapter made for quite a while, but I just have never gotten around to posting it because I've been down in New Orleans...** **Anyway, here you go!**

* * *

"How about 'give us what we're owed, or we'll challenge you to a duel'?"

"No, he's a grown wizard...knows all sorts of spells we haven't learned yet. We wouldn't stand a chance against him."

Fred and George sat in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, their heads close together and bent over a piece of parchment, talking quickly and quietly to each other.

"What if we threaten to expose him? Tell the Ministry that he's a con man?"

Fred shook his head, "I'm sure loads of people have tried that before...we need to think of something really different."

It was most unusual to see Fred and George hidden away in a corner and working silently; they usually liked to be in the thick of things and the noisy centre of attention.

"If we say that he's a liar and a cheat, do you think it'll make him feel guilty?"

This time, George shook his head at Fred, scratched out something with his quill, and said, in a very quiet voice that nevertheless carried across the almost deserted room, "No - that sounds like we're accusing him. Got to be careful..."

Then George looked over to where Ron and Harry sat on the other side of the room and saw Harry watching him. Harry grinned and returned to his work. George wondered for a fleeting moment if Harry had heard their conversation. With a heavy sigh, George turned back to the table, shook his head again, and started rolling up the parchment.

"I'm exhausted. I say we finish this tomorrow."

Fred nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, let's go up."

As the boys stood up from the table, they cast a sideways glance at Ron and Harry, who seemed to be absorbed in their work, then proceeded up the stairs to their room and shut the door.

* * *

Hermione knew that she couldn't be the only one that cared about this. She was sure loads of people wanted something to change, even if they couldn't do anything about it. But Hermione was going to, and she was going to bring more people to the cause.

After Moody's class on the Unforgivable Curses today, and after she had been given assurance from Neville that he was alright after what had happened in class today with the Unforgivable Curses, Hermione had rushed off to the library to finish her project so she could start recruiting other concerned students and staff.

After having finished the final touches and leaving the library, Hermione climbed into the common room carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and box whose contents rattled as she walked in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purring.

"Hello," she said, "I've just finished!"

"So have I!" said Ron triumphantly, having been working on homework, throwing down his quill.

Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron's assignment toward her. It was his predictions for Divination, and most of them consisted of death or some other tragic occurrence.

"Not going to have a very good month, are you?" she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.

"Ah well, at least I'm forewarned," Ron yawned.

"You seem to be drowning twice," said Hermione.

"Oh am I?" said Ron, peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff."

"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" said Hermione.

"How dare you!" said Ron, in mock outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's just an expression," said Ron hastily.

Harry laid down his quill too, having just finished predicting his own death by decapitation.

"What's in the box?" he asked, pointing at it.

"Funny you should ask," said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed them the contents.

Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S. P. E. W.

"'Spew'?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"

"Not _spew_ ," said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," said Ron.

"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione briskly, "I've only just started it."

"Yeah?" said Ron in mild surprise. "How many members have you got?"

"Well - if you two join - three," said Hermione.

"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew,' do you?" said Ron.

"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status - but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."

She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them.

"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione - open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They _like_ being enslaved!"

"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked.

"We start by recruiting members," said Hermione happily. "I thought two Sickles to join - that buys a badge - and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron - I've got you a collecting tin upstairs - and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting."

There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at the pair of them, waiting for them to move to get their respective items. The silence was broken, not by Ron, who in any case looked as though he was temporarily dumbstruck, but by a soft _tap, tap_ on the window. They looked across the now empty common room and saw, illuminated by the moonlight, a snowy owl perched on the windowsill.

"Hedwig!" Harry shouted, and he launched himself out of his chair and across the room to pull open the window.

Hedwig flew inside, soared across the room, and landed on the table on top of Harry's predictions.

"About time!" said Harry, hurrying after her.

"She's got an answer!" said Ron excitedly, pointing at the grubby piece of parchment tied to Hedwig's leg.

Harry hastily untied it and sat down to read, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

The letter was very short, and looked as though it had been scrawled in a great hurry. Harry read it aloud:

 _Harry -_

 _I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is._

 _I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry._

 _Sirius_

Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione, who stared back at him.

"He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "He's coming _back_?"

"Dumbledore's reading what signs?" said Ron, looking perplexed. "Harry - what's up?"

For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap.

"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry said furiously.

"What are you on about?" said Ron in surprise.

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" said Harry, now slamming his fist on the table so that Hedwig landed on the back of Ron's chair, hooting indignantly. "Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," Harry snapped at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak expectantly, "you'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took off for the open window, cuffing him around the head with her outstretched wing as she went.

"Harry," Hermione began, in a pacifying sort of voice.

"I'm going to bed," said Harry shortly. "See you in the morning."

Hermione watched Harry walk up the stairs to his dormitory, and knew he would be beating himself up over Sirius's letter. She also knew that if Sirius came back, he would be in danger.

When Ron declared that he too was going up to bed, Hermione nodded, in a slight trance, and went up to her dorm, ready for the morning to arrive.

* * *

Hermione and Ron didn't see Harry after they both had left the common room. When they finally found him, he told them that he had just returned from sending Sirius a letter saying he'd probably just imagined his scar hurting and not to return to England.

"That was a _lie_ , Harry," said Hermione sharply over breakfast. "You _didn't_ imagine your scar hurting and you know it."

"So what?" said Harry. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

"Drop it," said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him, and fell silent.

Hermione tried not to worry about Harry over the next couple of weeks, but to no avail, for she was always worrying about Harry and Ron-how could she not when they were always doing things that's they probably shouldn't? The only thing that was a little successful in distracting her was their lessons. Their lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts.

To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Hermione would almost rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Hermione watched as, one by one, her classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, " _Imperio!_ "

Hermione hoped that Moody wouldn't make Harry do anything _too_ bad.

"He looks quite relaxed, honestly," Hermione thought as she watched Harry's face, "I wonder what it feels like..."

Harry suddenly bent his knees as if he was preparing to jump, stopped, and then there was a CRASH and Harry was on the floor, seemingly in a tremendous amount of pain.

"Now, _that's_ more like it!" growled Moody's voice. "Look at that, you lot...Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that's where you see it - very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling _you_!"

* * *

"The way he talks," Harry muttered as he hobbled out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later (Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four times in a row, until Harry could throw off the curse entirely), "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."

"Yeah, I know," said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. He had had much more difficulty with the curse than Harry, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. "Talk about paranoid..." Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot and went on. "No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted 'Boo' behind him on April Fools' Day? And when are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?"

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told them, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer -"

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Dean Thomas indignantly.

"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that _your_ pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"

Hermione had turned rather pink again, and was hoping that she didn't look too pleased with herself.

After their next class, Hermione was somewhat annoyed when Harry and Ron told her that initially, Professor Trelawney told them that they had received top marks for their homework in their Divination class and had even read out large portions of their predictions, commending them for their unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for them-but Hermione burst out laughing when they told her that Trelawney asked them to do the same thing for the month after next, for both of them were running out of ideas for catastrophes.

Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

Hagrid's smile faded off his face.

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book...I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.

When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of the three, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:

 **TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY-

"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORETHE WELCOMING FEAST.

"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."

"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," said Harry. "He must be entering the tournament."

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student - _and_ he's a prefect."

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

"You only like him because he's _handsome_ ," said Ron scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like " _Lockhart!_ "

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Hermione went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

Hermione noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.

Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Longbottom, kindly do _not_ reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffiindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before..."

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised _History of Hogwarts_ would be a more accurate title. Or _A Highly Biased and_ Selective _History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School._ "

"What are you on about?" said Ron, though Harry thought he knew what was coming.

" _House-elves!_ " said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does _Hogwarts, A Histor_ y mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

Hermione couldn't understand why Harry and Ron weren't supporting her on this issue. They had both paid the two Sickles for a S. P. E. W. badge, but neither had taken up the roles she had bestowed upon them. She had been badgering Harry and Ron ever since, first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same, and she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.

"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.

Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke.

Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge, which made Hermione sink internally). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to -"

"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them: they're _happy_. They think they've got the best job in the world-"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she and Ron watched Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily.

As the trio started whispering about the letter Harry had just received, George leaned over to Fred.

"I for sure thought that you would buy a badge to make Hermione fall in love with you," he said with a sly smile.

Fred rolled his eyes at his twin. "It would be a waste of money on my part, I would be pledging my support to a cause I don't necessarily agree with, and it would just make her more determined. Just because I fancy her doesn't mean that I am going to try and do anything to make her like me back. Besides, there are other ways of making her fall in love with me."

George just raised his eyebrows and turned back to his breakfast.

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front...no pushing..."

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Hermione in the fourth row from the front, saw the first years positively shivering with anticipation.

"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," said Hermione.

"How, then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"I don't think so...not from that far away..."

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. Hermione was starting to feel cold. She wished they'd hurry up...Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance...He remembered what Mr. Weasley had said back at the campsite before the Quidditch World Cup: "always the same - we can't resist showing off when we get together..."

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers -

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

" _There!_ " yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

Dennis's guess was closer... As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Hermione just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore the Beauxbatons coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Hermione saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman she had ever seen in her life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Hermione had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in her life, and that was Hagrid; she doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow - maybe simply because she was used to Hagrid - this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dort," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Hermione, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Harry could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"Skrewts," Ron muttered to Harry, grinning.

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said Harry. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," said Ron hopefully.

"Oh don't say that," said Hermione with a shudder. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds..."

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then -

"Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly.

They listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed...

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks -and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool...Harry was the first to see the rigging...

"It's a mast!" he said to Ron and Hermione.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Hermione noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle...but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Hermione noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good...Viktor, come along, into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Hermione caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. She heard Harry grunt as Ron, who was watching the boy intently, punched him on the arm.

"Harry - _it's Krum!"_


	14. The Goblet of Fire

**A/N: Hi.**

 **I have been very bad about writing these past few months, and so I have decided to gift you two new chapters over the holidays: one tonight, and one, well...whenever I get a chance to finish it, but I promise I will have it uploaded within the next week.**

 **So, I guess...Merry Christmas?**

 **B**

* * *

 **The Goblet of Fire**

I don't believe it!" Ron said, in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Harry! _Viktor Krum!_ "

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione.

" _Only a Quidditch player?_ " Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione - he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

As they recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, Hermione saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked -

"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me -"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

" _Really_ ," Hermione said loftily as they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

" _I'm_ getting his autograph if I can," said Ron. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?"

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," said Harry.

They walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"It's not _that_ cold," said Hermione defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space -"

"What?"

"Too late," said Ron bitterly.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Hermione could see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug about this. As she watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though...bet he gets people fawning over him all the time...Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry...I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

Hermione snorted.

"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," said Harry. The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. They were surprised to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's.

"But there are only two extra people," Harry said. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?"

"Eh?" said Ron vaguely. He was still staring avidly at Krum.

Hermione just had a thoughtful look on her face.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Hermione saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than the trio had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's _that?_ " said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's _French_ ," said Hermione, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," said Ron quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.

Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

"Yeah, have it," said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

"She's a _veela_!" he said hoarsely to Harry.

"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"

But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry, seemingly without thinking. Cho happened to be sitting only a few places away from the girl with the silvery hair.

"When you've both put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived."

She was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are _they_ doing here?" said Harry in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who looked like a veela appeared to have eaten enough, however, and did not come over to get it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Hermione shifted in her seat, feeling the excitement in the room. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"

"The what?" Harry muttered.

Ron shrugged.

"- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways.. their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

"That's rubbish!" Hermione heard one of the twins call from down the table.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing - it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough..."

"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

Hermione turned her head to watch Harry's face. He seemed to be flirting with the idea of entering, but then his head shook slightly and the idea disappeared from his eyes.

"Where is he?" said Ron, who wasn't listening to a word of this conversation, but looking through the crowd to see what had become of Krum. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

But this query was answered almost instantly; they were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.

"Back to the ship, then," he was saying. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

Hermione saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on. "Professor, _I_ vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to _you_ , Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy -"

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry stopped to let him walk through first.

"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him.

And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry and stared at him as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry too. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry's forehead.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a growling voice from behind them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.

The color drained from Karkaroff's face as Hermione watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.

"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

It was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.

As the next day was Saturday, most students would normally have breakfasted late. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were not alone in rising much earlier than they usually did on weekends. When they went down into the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me...wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

Someone laughed behind Harry. Turning, they saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," said Fred.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.

"It's not going to work," said Hermione warningly.

George raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah?"

"Why's that, Granger?" Fred asked playfully.

Hermione only rolled her eyes. "A genius like Dumbledore couldn't _possibly_ be fooled by a thought that's so pathetically dim-witted as an aging potion.

"Ah, but that's why it's so brilliant—"

"—'cause it's so pathetically _dim-witted_!"

A few students laughed around the newly-formed group.

"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then - I'll go first -"

The room watched watched, fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words _Fred Weasley - Hogwarts_. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second Hermione thought it had worked - George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred - but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione, also chortling, went in to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Harry led the way over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those Hogwarts students of seventeen or over who might be entering.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Harry. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Harry shook his head in disgust.

"We can't have a Slytherin champion!"

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptuously. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. A tall black girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Ron, looking impressed.

"Are you seventeen, then?" asked Harry.

"Course she is, can't see a beard, can you?" said Ron.

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.

"What're we going to do today, then?" Ron asked Harry and Hermione when they had finished breakfast and were leaving the Great Hall.

"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," said Harry.

"Okay," said Ron, "just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."

A look of great excitement suddenly dawned on Hermione's face.

"I've just realized - I haven't asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet!" she said brightly. "Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?"

"What is it with her?" said Ron, exasperated, as Hermione ran away up the marble staircase.

As she reached the stairs to the Fat Lady's portrait, Hermione saw Neville standing at the top, facing the entrance.

"Neville," started Hermione, "did you forget the password?"

Red-faced and stuttering, Neville shakily answered. "Y-yeah, but I promise, this is the first time this year—I wouldn't have forgotten, but I didn't think about remembering, so I forgot."

Hermione smiled. "It's alright Neville, I'll let you in."

She turned to the Fat Lady's portrait and said, "Fanged frisbee."

The Fat Lady swung open, granting both Gryffindors access.

Neville sheepishly smiled and said, "Thanks, Hermione."

They had just walked past the armchairs and were almost to their respective staircases.

"No problem, Neville, just try to remember, and definitely don't make a list of passwords," Hermione added and Neville blushed.

"Don't worry, I won't. You know, they were right, you're—"

Almost as if he was suddenly struck by _Petrificus Totalus_ , Neville cut short his sentence and proceeded to run up the stairs to his dormitory.

Hermione, completely baffled by Neville's sudden flight, called after him, but he was already almost out of sight.

"Neville!", she called, "What were you saying? What do you mean?"

Neville didn't return, and before Hermione could take a step up the boys' stairs to follow, she remembered that Harry and Ron were waiting for her. She decided to pursue this after they had gone to Hagrid's. Running up to her bed to grab the box of S. P. E. W. badges, Hermione was still puzzled by Neville's actions.

A few minutes later she had returned to find her friends talking to one another, their backs to appeared to be watching the Beauxbatons students, specifically the veela-girl, as she had just entered her name into the Goblet of Fire. When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds.

"Where are _they_ sleeping, then?" said Ron, moving toward the front doors and staring after them. The rattling from behind Harry and Ron announced Hermione's reappearance with the box of S. P. E.W. badges.

"Oh good, hurry up," said Ron, and he jumped down the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of the veela-girl, who was now halfway across the lawn with Madame Maxime.

As they neared Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the mystery of the Beauxbatons' sleeping quarters was solved. The gigantic powder-blue carriage in which they had arrived had been parked two hundred yards from Hagrid's front door, and the students were climbing back inside it. The elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside it.

Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, and Fang's booming barks answered instantly.

"'Bout time!" said Hagrid, when he'd flung open the door. "Thought you lot'd forgotten where I live!"

"We've been really busy, Hag -" Hermione started to say, but then she stopped dead, looking up at Hagrid, apparently lost for words.

Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn't the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches - perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill's, but found he had too much hair. The look didn't really suit Hagrid at all. For a moment, Hermione goggled at him, then, obviously deciding not to comment, she said, "Erm - where are the skrewts?"

"Out by the pumpkin patch," said Hagrid happily. "They're gettin' massive, mus' be nearly three foot long now. On'y trouble is, they've started killin' each other."

"Oh no, really?" said Hermione, shooting a repressive look at Ron, who, staring at Hagrid's odd hairstyle, had just opened his mouth to say something about it.

"Yeah," said Hagrid sadly. "S' okay, though, I've got 'em in separate boxes now. Still got abou' twenty."

"Well, that's lucky," said Ron. Hagrid missed the sarcasm.

Hagrid's cabin comprised a single room, in one corner of which was a gigantic bed covered in a patchwork quilt. A similarly enormous wooden table and chairs stood in front of the fire beneath the quantity of cured hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. They sat down at the table while Hagrid started to make tea, and were soon immersed in yet more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid seemed quite as excited about it as they were.

"You wait," he said, grinning. "You jus' wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh've never seen before. Firs' task...ah, but I'm not supposed ter say."

"Go on, Hagrid!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione urged him, but he just shook his head, grinning.

"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," said Hagrid. "But it's gonna be spectacular, I'll tell yeh that. Them champions're going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I'd live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!"

They ended up having lunch with Hagrid, though they didn't eat much - Hagrid had made what he said was a beef casserole, but after Hermione unearthed a large talon in hers, she, Harry, and Ron rather lost their appetites. However, they enjoyed themselves trying to make Hagrid tell them what the tasks in the tournament were going to be, speculating which of the entrants were likely to be selected as champions, and wondering whether Fred and George were beardless yet.

A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon; it was very cozy sitting by the fire, listening to the gentle patter of the drops on the window, watching Hagrid darning his socks and arguing with Hermione about house-elves - for he flatly refused to join S.P.E.W. when she showed him her badges.

"It'd be doin' 'em an unkindness, Hermione," he said gravely, threading a massive bone needle with thick yellow yarn. "It's in their nature ter look after humans, that's what they like, see? Yeh'd be makin' 'em unhappy ter take away their work, an' insutin' 'em if yeh tried ter pay 'em."

"But Harry set Dobby free, and he was over the moon about it!" said Hermione. " _And_ we heard he's asking for wages now!"

"Yeah, well, yeh get weirdos in every breed. I'm not sayin' there isn't the odd elf who'd take freedom, but yeh'll never persuade most of 'em ter do it - no, nothin' doin', Hermione."

Hermione looked very cross indeed and stuffed her box of badges back into her cloak pocket.

By half past five it was growing dark, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione decided it was time to get back up to the castle for the Halloween feast - and, more important, the announcement of the school champions.

"I'll come with yeh," said Hagrid, putting away his darning. "Jus' give us a sec."

Hagrid got up, went across to the chest of drawers beside his bed, and began searching for something inside it. They didn't pay too much attention until a truly horrible smell reached their nostrils. Coughing, Ron said, "Hagrid, what's that?"

"Eh?" said Hagrid, turning around with a large bottle in his hand. "Don' yeh like it?"

"Is that aftershave?" said Hermione in a slightly choked voice.

"Er - eau de cologne," Hagrid muttered. He was blushing.

"Maybe it's a bit much," he said gruffly. "I'll go take it off, hang on..."

He stumped out of the cabin, and they saw him washing himself vigorously in the water barrel outside the window.

"Eau de cologne?" said Hermione in amazement. " _Hagrid?_ "

"And what's with the hair and the suit?" said Harry in an undertone.

"Look!" said Ron suddenly, pointing out of the window. Hagrid had just straightened up and turned 'round. If he had been blushing before, it was nothing to what he was doing now. Getting to their feet very cautiously, so that Hagrid wouldn't spot them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione peered through the window and saw that Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons students had just emerged from their carriage, clearly about to set off for the feast too. They couldn't hear what Hagrid was saying, but he was talking to Madame Maxime with a rapt, misty-eyed expression Hermione had never seen him wear before.

"He's going up to the castle with her!" said Hermione indignantly. "I thought he was waiting for us!"

Without so much as a backward glance at his cabin, Hagrid was trudging off up the grounds with Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons students following in their wake, jogging to keep up with their enormous strides.

"He fancies her!" said Ron incredulously. "Well, if they end up having children, they'll be setting a world record - bet any baby of theirs would weigh about a ton."

They let themselves out of the cabin and shut the door behind them. It was surprisingly dark outside. Drawing their cloaks more closely around themselves, they set off up the sloping lawns.

"Ooh it's them, look!" Hermione whispered.

The Durmstrang party was walking up toward the castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking side by side with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang students were straggling along behind them. Ron watched Krum excitedly, but Krum did not look around as he reached the front doors a little ahead of Hermione, Ron, and Harry and proceeded through them.

When they entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George - clean-shaven again - seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down.

"So do I!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Well, we'll soon know!"

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, Hermione didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as she would have normally. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, Hermione simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting...A few people kept checking their watches...

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered, two seats away from Hermione.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Harry saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, now that she thought about it. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next...

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"No! " said Ron loudly, but nobody heard him except Harry and Hermione; the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out -

" _Harry Potter_."


	15. AN

**Hey guys.**

 **My grandpa died a little while ago and it's been really hard for me to write.**

 **I know I had promised you another chapter back in December, but I just couldn't get one out. I'm working on it now, though, and hopefully it'll be up soon.**

 **So I guess this is where the "don't make promises you can't keep" saying comes in.**

 **I'm really sorry guys.**

 **All my love,**

 **B**


	16. Four Champions & House-Elves in Hogwarts

**A/N: Hey guys,**

 **I just want to say thank you SO much for your patience and love—it really does mean a lot to me that people I don't know in person are sending me love and support.**

 **I'm also leaving for vacation this Friday, so I'll try to write out a good chapter 17 for you, and maybe even half of 18!**

 **Again, thank you so much!**

 **All my love,**

 **B**

* * *

 **The Four Champions & House-Elves in Hogwarts**

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to hey a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she couldn't swallow—Harry's name had just been called. _Their_ Harry? It must have been a mistake.

But...the Goblet of Fire has never made a mistake.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione as the rest of the Gryffindor table turned to look at him.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."

Both of them stared just as blankly back.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

He stood up shakily and clumsily made his way up past the teacher's table and into the room with the three other champions.

Hermione didn't speak. Instead, she turned to Ron who had furrowed his brows with confusion.

"Ron...?"

"We said we weren't going to put our names in, but he did it behind my back..."

"Oh Ron, you know Harry wouldn't—"

"Do I? He's always been in the spotlight, always gotten the glory, why should he pass this up?"

Fred and George had by now tuned into the conversation.

"Oi, you don't really think Harry _wanted_ to fight that giant snake two years ago—"

"—or a hundred dementors last year, do you? He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, poor bloke."

Hermione nodded. "And didn't you see his face when Dumbledore called his name? He wouldn't have reacted like that if he had been hoping for a spot."

Ron just mumbled something about "shocked that it worked" and slumped off out of the Great Hall.

Hermione watched him leave. She turned back to the table with a loud exhale as Fred and George started discussing ways to hoodwink the Goblet.

"Maybe he used a Confundus Charm—"

"No, he's only a Fourth Year, they haven't learnt that yet—"

"Well, would someone else have written his name as a joke?"

"Why would they do that instead of their own name?"

"...I dunno...I was just thinking out loud."

"Hey! What if he used his Invisibility Cloak—"

"Wait," Hermione cut in with a whisper, "how do you know about that?"

The twins smirked, and George spoke with a tone of obviousness.

"Please, Hermione, you underestimate us."

"We noticed Harry sneaking around under it last year when he was trying to get to Hogsmeade. He's clever, but not clever enough to outwit us. Anyway, he could've used that to get past the Age Line—"

"No, if we couldn't use a potion, Harry couldn't get over with a piece of enchanted fabric."

"Honestly, you don't _really_ think that Harry wanted to enter, do you?" Hermione asked in all seriousness.

"Thought about what it would be like? Yes. Actually enter? No." Fred said. "First of all, you lot haven't learnt enough to properly train for a tournament like this, and I think even Harry knows that. Second of all, it's like we said earlier, Harry has never sought out fame or glory, it just happens to find him."

Hermione nodded. "I feel so sorry for him...what will Dumbledore say to him, I wonder?"

Fred and George looked at each other.

"Well, I think it's time for us to start gathering items for the Gryffindor party tonight." George said as they rose from the table.

"What?" Hermione said. "We're having a party?"

"Of course, Hermione dear," said Fred, "Harry's been chosen for the biggest even of the year, so we have to cheer him up a bit, right?"

Hermione had confusion written across her face. "I suppose, but where are you getting the food?"

"Why, from the kitchens. The house-elves are very helpful whenever Fred and I knick food." George explained. "You're welcome to come along, of course, just as long as you don't tell."

Hermione considered it for a moment before replying.

"Alright."

* * *

"How do we get in?" Hermione questioned as the three stood in front of a large portrait of a bowl of fruit.

"Watch and learn, 'Mione," Fred said as he stepped up to a green pear and started tickling what would be the 'stomach.'

To Hermione's slight surprise (lots of strange things happened at Hogwarts) the pear started giggling and it soon turned into a doorknob. Fred turned it, and in they went.

As soon as Hermione walked in, she saw what seemed to be hundreds of elvish faces turn and look up at her. Once the concluded that she wasn't there to make an announcement, they turned their heads away and scurried back to work.

"Why does Dumbledore insist on keeping house-elves here?" Hermione asked as she intently watched the workers. "I mean, we could do all of this ourselves with magic, couldn't we?"

"Dumbledore treats them well, Hermione," Fred tried to explain, "not like some families do. Besides, most of them would die of boredom if they weren't working every day."

Hermione pursed her lips, and George took over.

"They like us, Hermione, watch—" he said as he walked over to the nearest house-elf.

"Excuse me," he said in a soft tone, "do you think it would be a bother if I took a few Butterbeers?"

The house-elf, a female, blushed furiously and answered in a light, squeaky voice, "Of course, sir, anything you wish!"

"Thank you," George smiled as the elf gave a small bow and six cases of Butterbeer appeared on the table before him.

He turned back to Hermione and raised his eyebrows.

"That still doesn't prove that everyone else is being fair to them. What if—"

"We know that some people treat them poorly, Hermione—" George started before his brother cut in.

"—Like the Malfoys—" Fred rolled his eyes.

"—But we respect them. We really do," George added when he saw Hermione's face. "We respect them enough to let them work in peace."

"We can talk about this later, Hermione," Fred started as Hermione was opening her mouth. "Right now, we've got a party to throw."

* * *

Setting up the party wasn't the difficult part. Waiting for Harry to arrive, however, Hermione was anxious and frightened for her friend and could hardly keep still.

"Relax, Hermione," Ginny said as she sat perched on the arm of a chair. "Harry will explain everything when he comes back. Who knows—maybe Dumbledore cleared it all up and he doesn't have to compete."

Hermione remained skeptical. Glancing at the clock, she decided to sit in her favourite armchair and rest her eyes—it had been a long day and she was exhausted.

By the time she opened her eyes again, Harry had already been through the common room and had gone to bed.

Hermione would just have to find him tomorrow.


End file.
